


That Promised Dream

by Kiterou



Series: My Magic Academia [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku Friendship, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Bakusquad (My Hero Academia), Coming of Age, Dead Sensei | All For One, Duelling Club (Harry Potter), Fluff and Humor, Gen, Kirishima Eijirou is a Saint, Magical Shenanigans, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Go to U.A. High School, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Shinsou Hitoshi is in Class 1-A, Statute of Secrecy Is GONE, Todoroki Shouto is in the Bakusquad, Wizard Midoriya Izuku, no beta we die like sir nighteye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiterou/pseuds/Kiterou
Summary: Japan decides to abolish the Statute of Secrecy.It goes as well as everyone imagines, but the massive shitshow that follows doesn't stop UA and Mahoutokoro to throw their lots together and decide it would be a grand idea for budding heroes and wixens to meet.---This is part5of the series. Please make sure to read the previous parts.[2&3 are necessary to understand the full plot.]
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki & Todoroki Shouto, Erasermic (background), Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might
Series: My Magic Academia [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065380
Comments: 292
Kudos: 268
Collections: Clever Crossovers & Fantastic Fusions





	1. Prelude: The Announcement

**September 14th, 2148**  
Mahoutokoro

Izuku ran as fast as he could, weaving through other students, all in a similar hurry. Classes had just let out and everyone was eager to return to their dormitories. Izuku’s destination lay in the northern part of the palace-like building: the Black Tortoise rooms, housing his year’s set of twenty-five students within four shared dorm bedrooms branching out of the main common room of the current 3rd graders.

In his hand, his mobile phone was firmly clutched and more than once Izuku nearly ran into some other student. His school robe, at this point in time plum-coloured, was open-fronted to allow him to run faster, his bright-red All Might shirt clashing horribly with it. Not that he cared much - it was almost time, and after more than a month of anguished waiting, he couldn’t bear slowing down now.

“Out of the way!” he shouted as he made it to the corridor that led to the Tortoise dorms. There, at the halfway point between him and his goal, stood a gaggle of tiny 1st graders. Probably coming from Transfiguration and heading to their own set of dorms smack in the middle of the school building. They said that the Yellow Dragon dormitories had access to some hidden garden of perpetual summer- No, no time for that! He lunged and the kids scattered with surprised outcries and then Izuku was at the door and flung it open.

He wasn’t the first, but that was okay. He’d been in his Arithmancy class and not everyone had their electives at the same time. He was also not too late, eyes zeroing in on the TV mounted at the far wall of the common room. Without stopping, Izuku hopped over the backrest of one of the couches, scrambling for purchase and finally sitting down, his dark green hair a mess and his heart racing in his chest.

“They’re just about to drop it, I think,” Genkei, a lanky boy with a fake-bored expression and busy eyes said, shuffling closer to Izuku until they sat side-by-side. “The others?”

“Left them at the main stairs,” Izuku replied while wheezing. He was one of those rare students still keeping himself somewhat in shape (because he knew that most heroes had to be physically fit and he’d never been very good at letting things go), but running all the way across the palace had been taxing for his poor, wizardry body. He let his body go lax, which was not easy with the kind of anxious energy currently running through his very being. More than one month of waiting.

Today was the day.

“I’m going crazy,” he whispered and Genkei snorted, bumping shoulders with Izuku. The invitation was an obvious one and Izuku took full advantage, flopping sideways and draping himself against his friend’s side. His hands slowly relaxed as well, giving his poor phone a break. “Can’t believe they’re going to- what if they don’t-”

“We can go to Kyoto and kick all their asses,” Genkei suggested and for a few moments, Izuku was just speechless with affection and exasperation.

“And die under spellfire,” he chortled, briefly turning around at the sound of the door. The rest of his Arithmancy class hurried inside, looking harassed and out of breath. They joined the other kids already gathered in front of the TV. Eleven boys, fourteen girls, the whole of class 3 for once unanimous and attentive.

And then the current program (the one and only magical news channel, running almost 24/7 for the convenience of its audience, and how they managed to keep it up without anyone _noticing_ was still baffling Izuku) was interrupted, the screen turning a soothing blue. Another flicker, and it was replaced with the live footage of the Ministry, a serious-looking man in a pinstripe-suit-robe combination standing in front of the camera.

_”To all magical citizens of Japan:_

_As of today, the enlightened council of the Onmyoji has come to a conclusion regarding bill 924, submitted by the honoured Kawachi Himari-Kakka, after the maximum of 34 days of discussion. Bill 924, Of the annulment of the Statute of Secrecy throughout the territory of Japan under His Majesty the Emperor, has been declared both law- and rightful and will be put into action as of tomorrow, September the 15th of the year 2148. As declared within bill 924, the existence of magic within our borders, with everything entailed that was until today protected under the Statute of Secrecy, will be revealed to the non-magical population within the duration of one year._

_This act will occur in multiple stages under the supervision of the enlightened council of the Onmyoji, the Japanese Ministry of Magic located in Kyoto, the House of Councillors of the non-magical Japanese government, the House of Representatives of the non-magical Japanese government, the Hero Public Safety Commission and His Majesty the Emperor. Each step, as outlined in bill 924, will be followed with utmost care as to minimize any unrest that might arise. A copy of bill 924 can be found on the website of the Japanese Ministry of Magic and it is advised that every magical citizen of Japan should carefully read the document._

_Until further notice, citizens should not reveal themselves in public, nor in private, until stage 3 of the revelation plan has begun. Residents and business owners within secured magical spaces can be assured that such locations will not be revealed until stage 7._

_As of tomorrow, both the non-magical and the magical representatives of both governments will start with stage 1 of the revelation plan and approach the Hero Public Safety Commission to secure every help in bringing both halves of Japan together, under our glorious Emperor, Kōmei-nomiya Enmei Shinnō…”_

The spell that had the class silent during the announcement broke, and suddenly, it was pandemonium. People started talking and shouting over each other, mobile phones whipped out to furiously type, calls were being made and Izuku could only stare in wonder at the screen, hope _blazing_ in his chest. He turned to Genkei, who just gaped. And then Hana-chan shouted his name and jumped him with glee, and Izuku was shouting, too, fist-pumping in the air like an idiot. But who cared?

Magic would soon be no secret and he might become a hero after all and he was much too excited to feel embarrassed when he fell down the couch and onto the floor.

~~~

The announcement spread like wildfire. Ever since the bill had been put forth, the whole country (or at least the _magical_ side of the country) had been in an uproar. At first, nobody had believed that it would ever get beyond the majority approval of the council. But then it turned out that Kawachi-Kakka had already secured enough votes for that. Not long after, the Onmyoji council had moved onto the full approval process, something that hadn’t happened in centuries.

It made sense, in a way - this was about dismantling the single most important law of every magical nation. So, naturally, it incited a lot of drama and discourse, not only within Japan but on an international level.

It was simply unheard of - for a single country to decide on the Statute of Secrecy, which had once been enacted by the whole magical world. The ICW was enraged - every day was filled with news of some politician or another loudly declaring this an act of war. But Japan didn’t budge. Document after document was brought before the Supreme Mugwump, lining out the exact plan of revealing the existence of magic _only_ to the Japanese population. One speech of the Japanese representative vent viral, as the woman declared that the other nations had no say in this decision.

“Magical Japan, as well as other Asian nations, faces circumstances that other countries cannot ignore in this discussion,” she had said, black hair tied into a strict knot, her suit-and-robe combination as severe as her expression. “We are barely able to remain secretive as is - it is either joining peacefully with our non-magical counterparts or cling to outdated methods until the situation is forced onto us. If the ICW continues its threats against Japan, we’ll gladly work on our exit, despite all the consequences this will cause _for both sides.”_

Nobody had to mention that most of these consequences would hit the foreign nations much harder than they would Japan, especially when the representatives of other countries, such as China and the Philippines, commented on siding with them. Japan had been secluded for long stretches of time before - both the non-magical and the magical side. They could do without their massive export sales if they kept some of their trade routes open.

But the rest of the world would miss out on unique exports and Japan _was_ one of the most successful magical societies thriving in the modern age.

During all of this, the Onmyoji council remained within the Kiyomizu-dera until the day of the announcement. With the world still reeling from the possibility alone, said announcement brought forth even more international chaos. Threats and pleas were made towards Japan, but with both magical and non-magical governments in agreement and the Emperor himself approving the decision, there was no stopping this.

Every witch and wizard of Japanese nationality, even their magicless spouses, children, parents and siblings, had to come to terms with this.

~~~

 **September 15th, 2148**  
Hero Public Safety Commission Main Building, Tokyo

“Ah, Prinzipal Nedzu! And Aizawa-sensei, too?”

Shouta barely hid his grimace when he heard his name called out by that loud, exuberant voice. Next to him, the deceptively small form of Nedzu turned around with a glint in his beady eyes, far more happy to face the source of it.

“All Might,” Nedzu greeted warmly and Shouta sighed with defeat. There he was, the Number One, Symbol of Peace, in all of his bright and cheery (and socially awkward) glory. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the _man_ \- few people were friendlier than the hulking hero -, he was just-

“It’s so good to see you again!” All Might boomed, teeth _gleaming_ in the light, and Shouta squinted reflexively. Just too much, was all. “I’m surprised, though - are you, too, invited to this mystery meeting?”

“Yes,” Shouta said, not even trying to curb his annoyance. Thanks to Nedzu, he’d opted for a suit and left his capture weapon behind, his hair pulled into an uncomfortable ponytail. He only ever wore this outfit for two occasions: if he had to face the press or the commission. It was safe to say that he loathed both scenarios, but well.

When the principal insisted, you better accept your fate.

“Ah-” All Might said and hesitated, again showcasing how little he actually knew how to interact with people. It could’ve been endearing, Shouta thought wryly, to see a man of this size and reputation flounder, if it wasn’t up to _him_ to pick up the conversation. Which Shouta didn’t.

“Maybe we should go to the meeting room,” Nedzu said before the silence could become too awkward. Shouta snorted and All Might put on a smile. “Do you know who might be here as well, All Might?”

“Not a clue, Principal,” the Number One Hero said with a shrug, falling into step with the two faculty members of U.A. with surprising ease. He acted a lot more familiar with Nedzu, Shouta noticed, and wondered how long they'd known each other that closely. “Although I think that Endeavour and Best Jeanist are here as well, judging by the wording of my own summons.”

Nedzu shot Shouta a look when the underground hero made a sound of contempt. Shouta only raised his eyebrows and then rolled his eyes at the reproaching look of his boss. So he didn’t like Endeavour at all - sue him. Many people didn’t. It wasn’t a secret. “That’ll be fun,” he said, just to rub it in. Nedzu’s whiskers quivered and Shouta gave him a sharp grin, not bothered by All Might’s confused silence.

Eventually, they reached their destination. A secretary ushered them into a nondescript door into a nondescript meeting room. Shouta knew these kinds of places - they were anonymous, they were secure and they were meant for the kind of talks that ended up buried underneath a mountain of NDAs. He immediately tensed, barely hidden underneath his lazy persona.

He wasn’t the only one. Nedzu, too, had noticed the peculiars of their meeting room. At the long desk, both Endeavour and Best Jeanist were already seated, sharing in the uncomfortable atmosphere.

All Might looked from one face to another before loudly greeting his fellow heroes, making Shouta wince a bit from the volume alone.

“Let’s sit down there-” he tried to say, but Nedzu shook his head and gestured to the three heroes - All Might trying somewhat desperately to strike up a conversation, Endeavour quietly fuming and Best Jeanist closing his eyes in exasperation.

And Nedzu, already on his way to join these men. Shouta hissed but couldn’t very well refuse. He made it a point to put both Endeavour and Best Jeanist between himself and All Might, though. Let Nedzu deal with him, it was far too early to even think about facing a nervous All Might.

It didn’t take much longer for the room to fill after they settled. A couple of commissioners from the HPSC entered, their quiet talk only disrupted for a short, courteous greeting. Another secretary went in and out, bearing the kind of paperwork that had Shouta bare his teeth with the instinct of a long-suffering teacher. More people in drab suits - one of them Shouta recognized from the House of Councillors, a sharp-looking woman with some kind of mutation-quirk. Next to her stood an unassuming young man, sorting through his own stack of documents.

Finally, the restless air in the room settled with the sound of the door locking.

“Welcome and thank you for your participation in today's briefing. Before we start, I’d like to ask you to sign these,” the government representative said. Shouta felt like he’d had the right idea of her - her smile could’ve cut granite when she handed out-

NDAs. She was handing out NDAs. Of _course_ she was. Shouta sighed and put his name on the paper - after years of underground work, he was used to this.

A glance to his left told him that his more prominent colleagues were a lot more miffed about the secrecy. Shouta would smile at the faces they made if he wasn’t still so much on edge.

When all documents were collected, the woman gave them a brisk nod. “Thank you,” she said, standing tall at the head of the table instead of sitting down like everyone else. There was a tense line to her shoulder and an intense quality to her stare. “Everyone, my name is Teramoto Ichika and I’m the representative of the House of Councillors. As you’ve likely guessed from the documents just signed, today’s meeting will be held under strict secrecy, which means that nobody outside this room will be told _anything_ we will discuss today until further notice. Belief me when I say that breaking this agreement will be dealt with the harshest of repercussions that will only _begin_ with the termination of all contracts between you and the government.”

At that declaration, everyone tensed up even more. Shouta stared at Teramoto with wide eyes and Endeavour sat up, disbelief and anger clear on his face. All Might just looked stunned, and it was his presence that really brought the severity of this meeting home to Shouta. For the government to even think about firing the current Number One-

“That said,” Teramoto continued, seemingly uncaring about the reactions of the Pros. “I am grateful for you to have gathered at such short notice. We wouldn’t have asked you of this if it wasn’t of utmost importance to our society.” Another short pause and then she turned her head towards the young, unassuming man sitting next to her. “Both of them. Teruya-san.”

“Thank you, Teramoto-san,” the man replied evenly and they switched positions. Shouta was still reeling from the previous statement. And what did she mean, _both_? “My name is Teruya Ko and I’m the representative of the Japanese Ministry of Magic.”

“What?” With a wave of heat, Endeavour’s fire came to life, while Best Jeanist actually sputtered. Shouta didn’t say anything. This was too much.

“The Japanese Ministry of Magic,” Teruya repeated without a change to his voice and then he-

Then he pulled out a polished, beautifully carved _stick._

“Before any questions are asked, please allow me a short presentation.” With these puzzling words, the man tapped the stick against his chair, which started to flow onto the desk. A quick glance around told him that not only the heroes, but also the commissioners from the HPSC looked thoroughly bewildered. What had a levitation quirk to do with the nonsense that man was saying…

Shouta blinked rapidly at the cat that had previously been a chair.

“Transfiguration is only one of the known and taught branches of magic,” Teruya said, his voice calm and droning as ever, even when he completely dispelled the cat with a flick of his- _wand?_. “Others are conjurations,” not a flick this time, but a pattern drawn into the air, followed by an outburst of _butterflies_ , each glowing in a kaleidoscope of colours. “Enchantments,” Teruya said and touched one of the butterflies with his wand. The insect trembled for a moment before bursting into flames. It didn’t die, however, but merrily flew off again. “And other categories as well, not all of them fit for demonstration in the time we have.”

“You call it magic,” Endeavour barked. The man was clearly disturbed. Shouta felt the same way. What was this - an elaborate joke? Some sort of hallucination quirk? Or _multiple?_ “What proof do you have? I’ve seen these kinds of tricks before!”

Teruya smiled patiently in the face of this outburst before meeting Shouta’s eyes. He felt a chill crawl down his spine, his stomach turning with unease. “Aizawa-san,” the madman said with a nod, holding up his _stick_. “If you may?”

He didn’t want to. He shouldn’t _have_ to. This was nonsense, a waste of time. But Shouta’s never seen a quirk that let you turn a fucking chair into a moving cat. Hallucination, then? But he hadn’t sensed anything-

Pulling himself out of the whirlwind of scattered thoughts, Shouta took a small breath before leaning forward, activating his own quirk without any verbal answer. Teruya watched him for a moment with something like keen interest before swinging his stick in wider patterns, face etched with concentration. This time, nothing changed its form, nor did anything burst into fire; a silver mist-like substance poured out of the stick, floating swiftly through the air before taking the form of a small, ghost-like bird.

Shouta could feel the stares of everyone else bar Teramoto on him. His own eyes itched with the force of his quirk, yet the silvery bird landed elegantly on Teruya’s shoulder, its presence oddly calming and _hopeful_ to Shouta’s senses. He blinked and sagged backwards onto his chair. Nothing changed. Teruya was fully unaffected by Shouta’s quirk.

“Thank you, Aizawa-san,” Teruya said and let his eyes roam over disbelieving and shell-shocked faces. “You are one of the very few people outside of _my_ society now in the know. A fact that my people hope to change in the foreseeable future. That is why you’ve been invited today - to be formally introduced into a society that has secluded itself ever since 1692… and help us to reintegrate into modern Japan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 3328


	2. Prelude: The Reception

**September 15th, 2148**  
Musutafu

“Izuku, sweetheart,” Inko said after almost half an hour of letting her son ramble on. The excitement of his voice made it hard for her to interrupt him, her stomach twisting with what felt like guilt. But she was his mother, and that meant that on occasion, she did have to put the things he said into perspective. “You do know that you need to at least finish your fifth-year exams, yes?”

The silence on the other side of the call was not absolute. What Inko hadn’t known before was that Izuku wasn’t alone right now - she could hear a soft chuckle from close to the phone from another person.

It had been one of the best things that happened after Izuku joined Mahoutokoro - finding friends that were like him, fellow wizards and witches learning how to control their innate abilities. People who understood what it meant to be part of a secluded society, to not have quirks, to stand aside from most people they knew. Izuku never had many friends. To be perfectly honest, Inko thought that her son only ever had one true friend, and even Katsuki had started to drift off after Izuku had failed to show a quirk when he should’ve. Their friendship never quite recovered and she remembered with stark clarity that one afternoon two and a half years ago, when Katsuki had asked where they were going.

Remembered the face Izuku had made, panicked and guilty and _sad_ above all else, and the way he’d asked her to go ahead. She’d never asked him what this was all about, but Inko and Mitsuki were still friends and they’d talked a lot about their sons. As far as she knew, Katsuki had never tried to contact Izuku again and Izuku had done the same.

So as a mother, she was thankful that he’d made new friends in her Alma Mater, and that one was there right now when she couldn’t.

 _”Oh…”_ Izuku finally said in a flat tone.

“Izuku,” Inko sighed and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. “It’s how it is. I can’t afford a private tutor for two years of schooling and you’d have to switch schools in spring if you want to attend U.A.”

Whoever kept her son company murmured an “I told you so”, but it didn’t sound mean. Her lips twitched, even when she felt like burying her face in her hands with how tired she felt. She knew that Izuku’s greatest wish was to go to U.A. and become a hero, but she also knew that the Ministry would never allow a student to do any magic before graduating. Izuku would be sixteen by then, far too old to join a normal High School, let alone a place as prestigious and exclusive as U.A.

“There are other options. And we don’t know yet what the Ministry is planning for us - there’ll be changes, no doubt, what with this new bill.” And wasn’t that the biggest surprise this year? No, the biggest surprise of her life. It still felt unreal to her, and she suspected that she won’t really know how to react to it all until the first changes were made.

 _I could even tell Mitsuki, at some point,_ Inko thought and her heart fluttered like a caged bird. Anxiety rose in her just thinking about sharing her secret - what if her friend asked why she hadn’t used her magic back then?

The sharp stab of pain from what should’ve been a long healed wound had Inko withdrawn from that train of thoughts just in time to hear Izuku speak up properly. _”Do you think they’ll allow us to become heroes, Mom?”_

Should she be honest, or try to soothe him? Inko shook her head, knowing Izuku wouldn’t pick that up. “I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ll have to wait and see.” Truth be told, Inko wasn’t even sure the government would go through with the bill. She knew the history of this country, knew how people once reacted when quirks started to appear.

What if something like that happened again? Only then it wouldn’t be quirkless people against quirked ones. It would be quirked people against magical ones. She pressed her lips together and wished with all her heart that her son would stay far away from the trouble brewing in the near future, but she also knew Izuku best. Her darling son was a hero at heart. If there was a way, he’d find it.

“Just be careful. And- Izuku, when the time comes and the Ministry gives us the go, if there’s anyone you want to tell about your abilities… I want you to tell me first, yes?” Her voice caught in her throat, the frantic edge too much to hide.

Maybe she had to come to terms with the revolutionary bill sooner than she liked to.

 _“... yes, Mom,”_ Izuku said and she wished she hadn’t interrupted him at all. Only that she had to. He needed to put things into perspective.

“You can always become an Auror, Izuku. You are so smart, I know you can.”

 _”Thanks, Mom.”_ It didn’t sound like he was thankful at all. _”I’ll call you next week, yes?”_

Oh, dear. She really wanted to see him now, to pull him into a tight hug. But he had friends at school. They’d know how to help him, she needed to believe that. “Have a nice day, sweetheart,” she managed to say without choking on it.

 _Sometimes I wish he’d gotten more from you, Hisashi,_ Inko thought as she put the phone down, the stress pressing on her eyes. _Does that make me a bad mother?_

No answer came and it still hurt, after all these years.

~~~

 **September 22nd, 2148**  
Principal Nedzu’s Office, Musutafu

Shouta nursed his headache like a fine wine, letting the pulsing ache do its job of anchoring him in the present. He knew he’d regret it later, when he was home and finally able to relax, Hizashi in easy reach and knowing the man wouldn’t ask him any questions.

Questions like “Where have you been?” and “What got you in such a shitty mood?”. Shouta had taken to avoid his fellow teachers even more than usual, _especially_ Midnight. That woman was a menace and far too curious for her own good.

Now, however, he clung to whatever kept him from spacing out too much. After the week he’d had, he felt like he needed it.

“So.” Shouta rearranged his limbs in an effort to sprawl out as much as he could on his chair, eyes barely open as he fixed his boss with a glare. “Magic.”

“Magic,” Nedzu confirmed and had the audacity to exude _glee_. Damn rodent. “It’s really very fascinating. I’m glad they decided to show us around!”

Glad wasn’t a word Shouta would’ve used. Granted, most of his choice of words wouldn’t be fit inside a school, but still. He twitched slightly at the reminder of the week he’d had, from the moment the Commission had summoned him for that cursed meeting to about an hour ago when they were finally released, after another stern reminder about the absolute secrecy of it all.

Then Shouta twitched again, memories flashing and threatening to disturb his sliver of equilibrium.

Naturally, Nedzu continued in his high, excited voice. “I think the zoo was my favourite! The fauna, the flora! It was all very specialized, wasn’t it? And so skillfully contained - no wonder it’s a _hidden_ society, who knew spatial expansion was even possible like this!”

Yes, the zoo. And the number of impossibilities contained in too-large exhibitions. Shouta had made the mistake to check the satellite maps of the region afterwards - surely, an area of that size left some kind of evidence. But no, it was as if the place didn’t exist at all. His headache spiked painfully and Shouta’s left eye twitched, a furrow growing between his brows.

It wasn’t just that, however. For a week, Teruya-san had brought the group along on a merry tour all across Japan, both into rural areas and into their biggest cities, showing them spaces nobody had ever noticed before. And each and every one of these hidden places had been _old_. So very, very old. Centuries upon centuries of history, of _shared_ history even, in pristine condition, ready for their perusal.

It had been five _hundred_ years since the two societies split up and one went into hiding. A long time to become forgotten. But to such an extent? Shouta had seen a fucking _dragon_ , how do you hide a _fucking dragon?_

“I don’t like it,” he finally managed to press out, giving in and rubbing at his temple. Nedzu took notice of the motion, blinking once before hopping off his chair.

“I think tea is in order,” the principal stated, voice calmer now. Shouta decided not to feel grateful for that and glowered even harder. “Oh, none of that now! Even Endeavour stopped when we visited the Ministry. I understand this is a great surprise for us all, but it is also a wonderful opportunity.”

“It will end in chaos and tears,” Shouta replied with all the conviction he held for such an outcome. Which was to say, a very large amount. The scowl didn’t help his headache any, but he kept it up for the principle of it. “And Endeavour didn’t stop not liking the idea of a whole unchecked _population of magicians_ right under our collective noses. He just stopped growling.”

Nedzu snorted before filling up two cups. “Baby steps, my dear Aizawa,” he said sweetly, showing off his unsettling teeth in a wide smile. “As I said, I see this as a wonderful opportunity. A delicate one, for sure, but also something we need to embrace. It’ll definitely help distract from other things, once it’ll go public.”

“Other things?” Despite himself and the horrible feeling that things were just about to get more complicated, Shouta sat up for a semblance of attentiveness and cradled the offered teacup with both hands. The warmth of the porcelain was a nice distraction from the persistent _throb-throb-throb_ of pain.

“Hmh,” Nedzu hummed and took a small sip of his tea. “That really hits the spot… now, where was I? Ah, right! Distractions!” Snickering softly, the rodent eyed Shouta for a moment. “All Might is thinking about searching for a successor,” he then said with a casual voice.

Shouta nearly dropped his teacup. “He’s _what?”_

“Retirement, Aizawa. He’s been a hero for decades now and thinks about passing on his legacy. We’ve already talked about options, of course - he’s going to take up a position as a teacher next year as is.”

The headache came back with a vengeance. “Is he, now?”

Nedzu beamed. “It’ll be splendid! He can get used to a less stressful job while teaching the next generation. If luck is with us, U.A. might even provide a suitable student for him to take under his personal wings!”

There was not much Shouta could do at this point but to stare at his boss, feeling dead inside and out. After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Nedzu still in his victory pose across from an unblinking Shouta, the principal deflated a little and coughed into one fist. “Well, now we have even more to look forward to,” the principal said quickly. “You see, Teruya-san was nice enough to inform me that there is a school for their kind.”

The unholy gleam in Nedzu’s eyes did the trick: Shouta blinked, rapidly. Then he grimaced. “No.”

 _”Yes,”_ said Nedzu, a big grin spreading on his furry face. Putting his cup down, he started to hop on his padded chair. “And he agreed to arrange a meeting with their Headmaster on a later date. It won’t be all too soon, sadly, but it’s something to look forward to!”

“Let me guess,” Shouta said, still feeling like he should do something to stop the madness. “You want to see if they’re willing to let the students meet each other?”

Despite his cutting tone, Nedzu simply nodded, clapping his hands. “Exactly that, my dear Aizawa! If their goal is to truly integrate both societies with each other, having the next generations bonding should be a top priority! And as Japan’s leading High School for aspiring heroes, U.A. should be spearheading such attempts!”

Shouta took a long, searching look of the principal’s face, noticing both the excited gleam and the sharp smile of him. Then he sunk forward, the cup still cradled in his hands, and contemplated his success rates of drowning himself in his tea.

~~~

 **September 22nd, 2148**  
Japanese Ministry of Magic, Kyoto

In another office, Teruya Ko, head of the liaison between the magical and non-magical government, finally allowed himself to relax. Letting go of the fake smile felt good; being able to lean back and loosen his tie even better. His secretary had left a cup of coffee under stasis on his desk, right next to his overflowing pile of paperwork that still needed his attention today. It was a nice gesture, even if Ko could do without the mountain of paper and documents demanding his time and energy.

First things first, thought - ignoring his work for the moment in favour for his coffee and his phone, Ko kicked back and made a call. It didn’t take long to get through - it should be morning there right now, not too early for the weekend.

The excited voice on the other end of the call made him smile earnestly for the first time in _days_. Something about wrangling a number of Pro Heroes and commissioners, all hell-bent on finding some kind of lie or catch with the whole situation, made it difficult for Ko to enjoy his job. His nephew’s voice, however, did the trick.

“Good morning to you, too,” he said, idly flipping through the first few files he could reach. Important, important, extremely time sensitive, unimportant- “Yes, yes, I’m fine! And you?” He let the boy chatter for a while, wondering how much he’d grown since he’d last seen him. Phone and video calls were never quite enough. “That’s good to hear. I’m still at work, but I’m on a break right now. _Yes_ , don’t worry about it, I always have time for you.” More rambling. Ko chuckled just as the door opened.

Peeking inside was his secretary, a smart young woman with a pleasant smile and a deadly sharp tongue. She raised one eyebrow when she found her boss on the phone instead of work, but Ko simply pointed to the picture framed on his desk. She took one look on the small family of three and nodded. Sadly, she still came in to put another little pile of documents down on his desk.

When he scowled up at her, she simply smirked. “I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he said into the phone, swallowing a sigh that threatened to escape him. He wouldn’t be home until late at night today, it seemed. Rubbing his eyes, he still managed a smile as he listened to his nephew. “Besides, I’m here too, right? And you’ll love it here. Same as your mother.”

He looked up again when he noticed that his secretary was still there. When they made eye contact, she leant forward and tapped the small piece of paper she’d put on top of his documents.

 _Kawachi wants to talk to you_ it said. Ko deflated a bit.

“Listen, I need to go back to work now. We can talk again later, when I’m home- yes, video call, promise.” He ended the call, already standing up, coffee barely touched. “That woman is killing me.”

“For a good cause, surely,” his secretary said and he left before she could give him anymore sass.

Kawachi was waiting for him in her own office, in the older part of the Ministry, closest to the council rooms. But despite the delicate and rich decorations, it still looked like too many work hours, subpar coffee and paperwork like every other office Ko had ever been in.

“Kawachi-kakka,” he greeted the woman when he entered the room, sketching a short bow. She was alone, so he didn’t bother with more than that. Not after working so closely with her ever since she told him about the madness that was bill 924.

“Teruya-san. I won’t keep you for long, I just want to pick your brain a bit.” Which was both relieving and distressing at the same time. She was good with that, Ko thought as he sat down in front of her ornamental desk. It was barely visible underneath the paper. “How was your week?”

“Terrible, Kawachi-kakka,” he replied, watching her lips twitch at that. “But it went as well as we could hope for. For now, they’re simply wary - it’s a lot for them to take in, in such a short time.”

“That’s true,” Kawachi said with a sigh. What an outsider would think, Ko thought, seeing both of them like this? Kawachi looked as exhausted as Ko felt. “But it seems like it works, for now.”

If only that was true. “Right now, the only person who took it all positively is Principal Nedzu from U.A. He’s very curious and didn’t once act hostile towards me. But everyone else behaves wary - they’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yes, it’s going smooth right now, but we’re soon going to process more people. It’ll be a miracle if we can get through stage 1 without incident or even on time.”

“Which is why we planned around that,” Kawachi said with a fatalistic little shrug. Meeting his eyes, she narrowed her own and tapped her chin with one finger. “This principal, what’s your impression of him?”

Ko took a few moments to think about that before he smiled. “In these circumstances? Our best chance for a solid in, I’d say.”

“Hmh.” With a hum, Kawachi looked away, her expression thoughtful. “I’ll keep it in mind. His interest in Mahoutokoro aside, keep an open ear out for him. You can go, now.”

“Thank you,” Ko replied with only a tiny edge of sarcasm in his voice that earned him a pointed look and a dismissive wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 3104


	3. Seedling

**May 7th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro

Red-hot spell-light _hissed_ , too close for comfort to Izuku’s face when he turned to the side and let it pass. Bending his knees and bringing his mass closer to the ground, he changed direction immediately afterwards, rushing across the marked area, both eyes on his opponent. She was good with her spells, flinging them out fast and precise, but she didn’t move well with them.

Carefully, Izuku pointed the tip of his wand towards her, eyeing the way she tensed. Mid-run, he twirled his wand in a tight pattern, the spell a soft mutter on his lips before he jabbed his wand forward. It was harder in motion, but his target wasn’t small - the ground underneath his opponent softened enough for her to stumble when she tried to shield herself.

The moment her wand pointed somewhere else, Izuku threw himself closer. Her next hex went wide; she was clearly surprised by his move.

 _“Ubau!”_ he shouted and her wand slipped from her grip and flew into the air. Coming to a stop, Izuku watched the teacher quickly summon it before it fell down.

“Good job, Abara, Midoriya! You can sit down for now. Next are Horikita and Furuse!”

With a grin, Izuku bowed and turned away, Abara on his heels after collecting her wand. “How are you not exhausted?” she asked, sounding a little bit annoyed at her loss. She was a year above Izuku and had only recently joined the duelling club. “You just kept on running!”

“I run every morning,” he told her, which wasn’t a lie. He did quite a few things in the morning to keep himself fit. Out of all the kids in the club, he tended to move around the duelling ring the most to gain an edge. “But I’m still a bit exhausted. You fired off those hexes really fast!”

For some reason, she seemed a bit taken aback when he smiled at her, blinking rapidly before looking away. But the defensive tilt of her shoulders relaxed into something more open. “Thanks,” she said and then she was smiling, too, so Izuku didn’t say anything wrong this time. “Next time I won’t be so surprised anymore.”

His grin grew a bit wider. He liked a good challenge. “Looking forward to it!”

Benches ran all along the walls of the club room, with other students of his age bracket sitting there to watch the duel unfold and taking notes. Thursdays were practical days - on Saturday, they’d get the chance to review on each other. While Abara returned to her friends, Izuku grabbed his backpack and took out a bottle of water and a half-filled notebook.

 _Duelling Analysis Vol. 5_ was scrawled on the front page. Flipping it open, he searched for the next blank page and jotted down some of the things he’d noticed about Abara’s style and choice of spells and her reactions to his evasive manoeuvres before he flipped to another page and set his attention on what happened in the duel ring.

Furuse still favoured binding spells and it showed in his limited arsenal. Horikita was more versatile, but his aim was slightly off and he had a hard time getting through Furuse’s defence. They moved around the ring, but they still didn’t think of using their bodies to full extend - that leg-locker from Furuse was aimed low enough to jump over, but Horikita tried to bat it away with a point-shield. Not bad, but his balance was off now and-

“Agh!”

Izuku grimaced when Horikita got hit in the face with a mean boiling hex. The next spell had him disarmed and Furuse the winner. That, too, got noted down.

Pair after pair went into the ring and for a while, it kept Izuku occupied. But he knew most of the students in his club well enough already. Izuku had joined during his second year in Mahoutokoro, forgoing Quidditch for it. It was the closest he could get to any hero training in this school, which had been the sole reason at that time. Nowadays, though, it was honestly one of his favourite pastimes, despite his lingering frustrations.

Not that he wanted to think about _that_. It had been months since Mom had sat him down proper to talk about realistic expectations and how much it’d cost for them to hire a magical tutor, the one thing he’d absolutely need in order to switch to a non-magical High School.

“That, or they’ll take away your wand, Izuku,” Mom had said when he got home for Christmas, still ready to argue for his case. And that had shut him up because without his wand, he was just some quirkless kid. _Useless_ , a voice said and Izuku grimaced and tried to push it down. _Coward_ , it whispered and he finally wrenched his thoughts away from that and back to his disappointment from before.

So, no tutor, no U.A. Which left Izuku to focus on his magical education and hope, desperately hope that by the time he graduated, there would be a way to become a hero still. There had to be. Because what was the point of revealing magic to everyone if Izuku still couldn’t chase his biggest dream?

Leaning back, he allowed himself to focus on that thought. It had been eight months since the announcement. Things had gone slow afterwards - most of the work, Izuku reckoned, was done behind closed doors. Last week, he’d read on the news feed on the progress of bill 924 that most of the Pro Hero network and local governments had been informed, so maybe they’d soon move on to the general public?

It’d be nice, Izuku thought. He knew that Mom was anxious about it. But it’d be nice for others to know that they exist, that there were people out in the world who could do fantastical things without needing a quirk for it.

Eyes following the current duel but mind far away, he wondered how it’d have been, having a real quirk instead of this. It was a thought he’d had more often during his first year here, and almost constantly before coming to Mahoutokoro and meeting other kids like him. Mom had told him about Dad’s quirk and Izuku could see himself with some kind of fire power.

He could’ve joined U.A. with a quirk like that. Next month was the U.A. Sports Festival and it kind of hurt, because Izuku could’ve been one of the participants. He’d barely left the house during the spring holidays and during the day of the entrance test for U.A., Mom had made him his favourite foods in an attempt to cheer him up.

That was last month. It still hurt, thinking about it. Wondering who made it through, when he couldn’t even try. _Did Kacchan made it?_ he thought, idly, before pushing that down too.

(Three years and he still thinks of that afternoon and the look on his childhood friend’s face and the way Izuku’s been avoiding him whenever he’s home from school. But he also remembers that Kacchan never tried to contact him as well. It’s a faded ache, nowadays.)

Feeling his mood sour, Izuku tried to refocus on the duel, which worked not as well as he’d hoped. But he did make it through without thinking too hard about old regrets and bashed hopes, about the Festival in June he wouldn’t be part of. When the bell rang and his teacher dismissed them, Izuku was one of the first to leave, eager to wash up before dinner.

Maybe a good meal would help to get his head straight.

~~~

“Aren’t we a ray of sunshine today.”

Izuku looked up and met Genkei’s eyes. “It’s nothing, I’m fine,” he said at the same time before he could stop himself. It was a knee-jerk reaction to deflect, and although he’d gotten better (he rarely needed it nowadays, after all), it still slipped through every now and then. Especially when he _wanted_ to deflect.

Sadly, Genkei wasn’t stupid nor blind. He took one searching look of Izuku’s face and rolled his eyes, sitting down next to him. His hair was a bit windswept from Quidditch training and the faint smell of sweat told Izuku that his friend hadn’t been to the showers yet. He pointedly wrinkled his nose, not surprised when Genkei decided to ignore that.

“So, poster child. What’s up?” he asked instead, and Izuku scowled at the moniker. “You’re brooding again.”

“I’m not,” Izuku tried again and poked his food with his chopsticks. Dinner was a loud affair; the teachers and caretakers didn’t bother reigning the students in as much as they would during breakfast and lunch. It created a nice, chaotic background noise and usually, Izuku would’ve no problems at all to drown his thoughts in it. But he knew Genkei - the lanky boy didn’t like to get ignored once he bothered to show interest. And for some reason, he’d latched onto Izuku sometime during their first term three years ago, deciding he’d make a good enough friend.

Most times, Izuku was glad about that, genuinely liking Genkei. Right now, however, he didn’t want the other boy to prod and push. Even if it’d be better. Probably. But he didn’t really want to talk about this. It was kind of awkward and petty of him, not wanting to watch the Sport’s Festival because _he_ couldn’t be in it, and also because he wanted to avoid-

“You don’t want to what?” Genkei asked, incredulously, and Izuku groaned and put his face into his hands. Genkei nudged him, leaning closer. “Are you _still_ angry about it?”

Something about the exasperated tone had Izuku bristling and he looked up, giving his friend a glare. “Oh, I don’t know,” he snapped. “It’s just my _dream_ , is all.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to go to U.A. for that,” Genkei said, not even bothered one bit by Izuku’s outburst. “It’s just the easiest way.”

“What?” Izuku asked, his furious thoughts stuttering to a halt. Thankfully, he was now too confused to feel bad about snapping at Genkei, who gave him a flat look and pointed his chopsticks at Izuku’s face.

“You, poster child, are like, the biggest hero nerd in Japan,” he said and wiggled his eyebrows when Izuku blushed. “And not in a bad way. I’ve seen your analysis notes. So what if you can’t go to U.A.? You’ll just do it after graduation, Izuku. They’d be stupid as hell if they didn’t want you as a hero. So you’re gonna watch the Festival with the rest of us, because this year’s firsties are our age and your future co-workers.”

Izuku gaped, food and misery forgotten as he felt overwhelmed with fondness for his friend. The heat on his face didn’t go away and now his eyes felt itchy and wet, too.

And then Genkei snorted softly and added in a mutter: “I also _really_ don’t want to share dorms with you when you sulk, and that’s a given if you so much as miss the opening ceremony.”

The tears dried before they could spill and Izuku elbowed his friend at the same moment Genkei bit into his croquette, causing him to spit it out, eyes wide.

The scolding they both got was totally worth it.

~~~

 **June 30th, 2149**  
U.A. High School, Musutafu

“Man, I’m nervous!”

“Me, too. Have you seen the crowd?”

“Don’t remind me, I think I feel sick.”

Katsuki scowled, shoulders tense even when he tried to relax them. He wasn’t _nervous_ like Soy Sauce and if Dunce Face ended up puking on his shoes, he’d regret it after Katsuki was done with him. And yet his shoulders formed a hard, unrelenting line and no matter how often he tried the breathing technique Dad had taught him, his muscles didn’t relax even a bit.

In just a few, they’d go out for the starting ceremony. Katsuki didn’t care for the speeches or the audience; his fingers itched for a good fight, something to prove himself in front of Japan. Without prompting, he found himself staring at IcyHot, whose face was as unreadable as always. No matter - Katsuki would beat his ass later today.

An arm wound itself around Katsuki’s shoulders and he jerked his head around, palms hot and itchy for one dangerous moment before he recognized Shitty Hair and his stupid grin. “What?” he asked, already bristling. For some reason, it was hard pushing his aggression down today.

Breathe in for one, two, three. And out again. Fucking didn’t help, but Shitty Hair kept on grinning and nudged him. “Excited?” he asked and Katsuki rolled his eyes.

“For what? I’ll win, anyway. Those extras don’t stand a chance.” His smile felt sharp even to him, but as usual, Shitty Hair took it in stride and gave him his own predatory grin. Didn’t look mean, though. Katsuki had never seen Kirishima genuinely angry or pissed off and he wondered how he did it.

“That’s the spirit! Man, this is really it, isn’t it? I can’t _wait!”_

Katsuki scoffed. “They’re going to make some fucking speeches and all that shit. Won’t start for another hour, I bet.”

It made Shitty Hair grimace, at least. “Ugh. Can’t they hurry?”

“Stop whining.”

“It’s not whining, it’s a legitimate complaint.” Shitty Hair laughed, loud and clear and so very honest. It was one of the things Katsuki liked about him - he took everything in stride, even Katsuki’s poor temper. Not that he’d ever say that to his face. He was clingy enough as is. “So, you’re ready to make your debut?”

Katsuki managed a shrug and noticed that his muscles had relaxed a bit during the short talk. “Yeah, sure,” he said and ignored the why’s and how’s. It never ended up well when he allowed himself to prod at his feelings. Not when Dad wasn’t here, anyway. He was one of the very few people who could really get him and who could talk him through some of the shit his brain put him through.

Especially after Izuku went away-

Yeah, how about no. Not when they were called out to present themselves. Not when he was in U.A. and rocking it.

(The thought lingers when Midnight calls him up on the podium and the _very_ short speech he gives turns into a declaration of war. Not that he cares. He’s here to give it his best, and he will only accept first place for his ambitions.)

“I just want to say that I’m gonna win.”

~~~

 **June 30th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro, Japan

Izuku spat out his drink, gaping at the TV screen with soda dribbling down his chin and his front. A far-away part of him noticed the way his classmates exclaimed over the mess and Genkei's sharp eyes on him, but most of his attention belonged to the blond teen onscreen.

 _Kacchan,_ he thought, a flash of memories barreling forth as if they sensed a weakness in his usual avoidance technique. Memories of hot summers and sunshine and a hand in his, a voice calling "'Zuku!" with all the excitement of a four-year-old boy.

Bakugou Katsuki has grown tall and muscular, red eyes sharp and face arranged in a familiar scowl as he stepped down the podium, leaving Midnight sputtering in shock. Everything about him strangely fit onto a screen and the stadium around him and the way everyone's attention was on the boy from Musutafu.

"Midoriya?" A hand on his shoulder. Shaking himself out of his shock, Izuku wiped at his chin and winced.

"Sorry! I'll clean it up, I was just surprised-"

A wand was pushed into his line of sight, the familiar carvings and inlaid rose quartz preventing Izuku from flinching away. A moment later, Genkei was busy siphoning the spilled drink from Izuku’s shirt and then moved on to the floor.

Izuku’s face was _burning_ with embarrassment.

Kenta, a slightly heavy-set boy with even wilder curls than Izuku, snickered into the relative silence. “Damn, Midoriya, your face was priceless!” He looked up to the TV screen, where the ceremony was continued. “That boy was pretty rude, huh?”

“Oh! Yeah, that’s- I mean, it’s kind of normal?”

“You know him, Izuku?” Hana-chan asked, sliding closer. “That blonde guy?”

“Yeah, poster child, you know him?” Genkei asked, not even bothering to hide his glee when he noticed the look on Izuku’s face. “Do tell.”

“Maybe?” Izuku said hastily and leant back, eyes wide when he found himself surrounded. “Possibly? We might’ve- uhm, grown up together?” His voice lowered itself to a mumble, face still hot and hands wringing. “Wewerekindabestfriends…”

“No way,” Kenta shouted, then cut a glance towards Genkei. “Okay, yes way. You have a _type_ , huh?”

Izuku sputtered and Hana laughed and Genkei flicked his wand with an annoyed expression and flipped the boy over.

And then the ceremonies were over and Izuku couldn’t help but watch his old friend with a mix of aching longing that he tried to ignore and a fierce wish to see Kacchan come out on top that he couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 2896


	4. Burning

**June 30th, 2149**  
U.A. High School, Musutafu

Katsuki watched the match between IcyHot and Soy Sauce, if you could even call it a match. It was over in mere seconds, with half the stadium obstructed by a giant ice spike. Somewhere in there, two of his classmates stood.

Not one lick of flame. It didn’t surprise Katsuki, but that didn’t make him any less mad at it. IcyHot had had no problems using his fire during the cavalry battle to get his hands on the ten million points on Katsuki’s head. It came out of nowhere, the blinding-hot flame, distracting Katsuki just enough for the move to work.

This wasn’t why Katsuki was mad. His anger was born out of the fact the other teen didn’t bother to use it again. Just the ice - always the ice.

Later today, Katsuki would face him in the ring and the thought of IcyHot holding back on him made Katsuki spitting with anger. The thought of _anyone_ trying to half-ass their way through the Festival made his hands shake and burn with indignation.

He didn’t care if IcyHot had his reasons; whatever fucking pledge he’d made with himself was non of Katsuki’s problems. He didn’t care about the scene he’d seen just before the match, Endeavour looming over his own son with his own fire on display, so close that IcyHot _had_ to feel the heat of it. He didn’t care that something was obviously wrong in the Todoroki household.

What he cared about was that IcyHot didn’t even _try_. The teen would face against Katsuki, and Katsuki would not accept him holding back. What kind of fucking victory would that be, trashing someone who only used half of his power? Which left the question: how to get him to show his full power in a fight?

No easy solution came to mind during the next matches. Insomnia won his match against some Gen Ed kid and Dunce Face lost his against that vine-growing girl from 1-B. His own agitation only grew when Glasses made a complete idiot out of himself. The next match was his, against whoever this Uraraka was, and then he’d face off against some other extra before he got his hands on IcyHot.

Somehow, he had no doubt whatsoever that the two of them would end up in the finale. After watching Soy Sauce encased in ice, Insomnia had no chance in hell, not against the stoic teen. Todoroki Shouto didn’t talk much on a good day and after what Katsuki’d seen between him and Endeavour, he doubted that IcyHot would be open for some friendly small talk.

Well, he still had two matches to fight; he could as well make use of his time while kicking some ass.

(But Uraraka turns out to be none other than Round Face, and as much as Katsuki is convinced that he’ll win, she is a lot tougher than he’d thought. So he gives her his full attention and takes notice of how hard she fights. After the match, her name stays in his head because he can respect her for giving it her all.)

~~~

 **June 30th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro

 _”That's_ your friend? Midoriya, you held back on us!”

Izuku ducked his head, but not so much that he couldn’t watch the screen anymore. His eyes were glued to it, trying to capture each movement. Fervently, Izuku wished for his old notebook, the one he’d left behind, carefully stowed away in a shoebox underneath his childhood bed.

He’d have to make do with the one in his hand instead, noting down every one of Kacchan’s new moves and those he recognized, but that the teen had obviously perfected in the last three years.

“He _was_ my friend,” he finally answered and wondered if someone was recording the event. Kacchan’s opponent, a girl named Uraraka, had a fascinating quirk of her own that he wanted to take another look at. “After switching schools, we, er-”

Thankfully, he didn’t need to say anything more - a good number of his classmates grew up in similar situations as him, surrounded by quirked kids not in the know. Those living in magical neighbourhoods exchanged puzzled looks, but Izuku didn’t feel like explaining.

“He’s really good,” Hana-chan said instead of prodding, just when another big explosion brightened the screen. “But Uraraka makes him work for it.”

“She’s definitely using her surroundings. Look, she’s goading him again!”

She did so beautifully, directing Kacchan’s destructive quirk towards the ground. More and more debris started to float above the arena and Izuku wondered about the limits of her quirk. Was it some kind of levitation? Or something else? Gravity came to mind. It was definitely touch-based.

“Oh! Look!” Someone yelled and Izuku sat up, pen ready, just as the debris started to fall down on the two contestants. But before the rubble could hit either of them, he noticed Kacchan’s pose.

It was the biggest explosion yet, aimed at the heavens. Out from its epicentre, rocks crumbled into pebbles and dust as the shockwave cleared the sky. On the ground, dust billowed up and settled deceptively slow.

Kacchan stood in the middle of the destroyed platform. He stood alone, eyes on Uraraka who’d been pushed outside of the ring.

“Fuck,” said Kenta with awe and reluctant admiration on his face. “I know he’s, like, super rude, but _damn_ he can fight!”

Izuku swallowed as he watched his former friend and listened to the cheer of the audience. It felt unreal, somehow, to see Kacchan strive for their shared dream, miles ahead of him.

Not for the first time, Izuku felt regret; a deep, aching hollow in his chest. What-if’s and could-have’s twisted and churned in his head, flashes of his childhood when everything had still been good and right. He loved magic with all of his being, but watching Kacchan fight and _win_ , he couldn’t help but wonder if they still would’ve been friends right now had Izuku been born with a quirk.

And then he snapped out of it, because he had been born with magic and had found friends despite it. While the others talked excitedly about the match, Izuku took the time to take some deep breaths and shoved all his regrets into a deep, deep corner of his mind.

Hopefully this time, they would have the decency to stay there.

(A moment later, he also wrangles any urge to cheer for his old friend into the very same corner.)

"The girl was pretty good, too. Smart move, making all that rubble float!”

Genkei moved closer and nudged Izuku out of his involuntary introspection. “What do you think, poster boy? Levitation?”

A rush of fondness helped Izuku cover his nerves and he smiled up at his friend before looking back at the screen. Workers were moving out to help the Pro Hero Cementoss repair the arena before the last fight of round one. “I’m not sure - with the way they floated around the same hight, it makes sense. It’s definitely touch-based, but not for the release - she put her hands together like _this_ to make them drop. If it was pure levitation, why didn’t she just use them individually? It often entails a certain control…”

Genkei smiled, almost smug in his expression, and threw an arm around Izuku’s shoulders as he listened to his rambling. The warmth in Izuku’s chest eased his previous, frantic thoughts and bittersweet memories and after a while, he leaned back, squirming closer to the solid presence of his friend.

~~~

 **June 30th, 2149**  
U.A. High School, Musutafu

“Oi, Bakugou! We're fighting next! Looking forward to wiping the floor with you!” Shitty Hair yelled with a grin that was all teeth and excitement. Katsuki’s own lips peeled back in what was either a smile or a snarl.

“I’ll blow your fucking face off, Shitty hair,” he said and threw himself on the chair next to him. Pinky, sitting a row behind them, was laughing at the two. “So, how was it fighting against your clone?”

“Huh? Dude, Tetsutetsu ain’t my clone! We’re totally different!”

Katsuki took one look at Shitty Hair’s confused face before snorting loudly. “He’s like, your knockoff version.” He craned his head to the side and glanced at Pinky, who grinned with mischief in her eyes.

“He’s right, Kirishima. You even have the same quirk!”

“It’s not the same! Mine is so much cooler!”

The two continued their friendly bickering, which was nice enough of background noise for Katsuki to divert his attention to other matters. He couldn’t see IcyHot, but he could see Insomnia a couple of rows beneath him, next to Round Face who’d come back from where they’d patched her up from the fight. Flickering his gaze towards the other side of the stadium, he searched the seats reserved for the Pros. _Go figure,_ he thought irritably. _Endeavour’s not here, either._ Which probably meant that he was back harassing IcyHot, and _that_ meant that whatever problems the guy had, they’d only get bigger.

Maybe Katsuki really had to bash his head in when it was time for their match. He sure as hell wouldn’t settle with a half-assed fight. It wasn’t like IcyHot’s family drama was Katsuki’s problem. The guy should just get over it and his fucking dad.

Settling into his seat and waiting for the next rounds to start, Katsuki very pointedly didn’t think about how most of his anger sparked whenever thinking about the Number 2 hero. This was the time for kicking ass and nothing else.

~~~

Nedzu’s nose twitched when he caught a strangely familiar smell. Turning around the corner leading to one of the snack shops inside the stadium, he was soon faced with a small crowd of people taking advantage of the short break cleaning up the arena provided. He could understand very well; he was out to get himself some biscuits, after all.

Amidst the line of hungry audience members, he spotted the source of the scent relatively quickly.

“Teruya-san! How nice to see you!”

The young man didn’t so much as startle when Nedzu called out to him. He simply looked around and smiled when he saw the principal closing in. “Good to see you too, Principal Nedzu,” he said, sounding not quite as bland as he was wont to during official business. “I have to say, watching the Festival live is very different from watching it on TV.”

“I haven’t had the chance to do that yet,” Nedzu said with a chuckle, coming to stand next to the wizard, chancing the opportunity to skip the line rather shamelessly. “I would’ve sent you a personal invitation, had you mentioned your interest in our little Sports Festival.”

“I will remember this for next year.” A small grin brightened Teruya’s face, lending him an almost boyish look. “But I’m here in private - my nephew attended, you see. Didn’t make it to the matches, though.”

This caused Nedzu to perk up, curiosity rearing its head. “Oh?” he said and gave Teruya a searching look. He knew every face of every student in his school, but he couldn’t say any of them had many similarities with the grown man next to him. “And who might that be?”

“Now, that would be telling, Principal,” Teruya replied and Nedzu was delighted about this little challenge. “Although I think you might know soon enough.” They moved a few steps forward, the smells of baked goods growing stronger.

“My dear Teruya-san,” Nedzu said, sensing some kind of news in these words. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“It’s work-related,” was the calm answer. Meeting Teruya’s questioning look, Nedzu gave a consenting nod and watched the man subtly looking around. Underneath his right sleeve, Nedzu could see the tip of something wooden- his wand! Excitement rushed through the rodent, but the only thing he could sense was a soft hum in the background that sprung up from nowhere.

“Just a little privacy charm,” Teruya explained and shook his sleeve out. “We won’t need it for long - I got Mahoutokoro’s answer this morning, per your request. Since we’re moving on to the next stage come Monday, the Headmaster is willing to meet up with you. Your official invitation to the school will arrive after the public announcement is made.”

It was all Nedzu could do not to jump with glee at the news. “That is wonderful!” he exclaimed instead, marvelling at the fact that nobody took notice of his voice at all. “I’m very glad that the Commission finally gave in. They can be a bit overbearing at times, but they do have the safety of the public in mind.” And he could understand that, he really could… and yet, it had caused a massive delay not only for the Ministry’s plans, but Nedzu’s own as well. Internships would soon begin and after that summer vacation. Not much time to readjust, should the Headmaster of Mahoutokoro feel open to Nedzu’s ideas.

He very much hoped so. These were exciting new times and he really, _really_ wanted U.A. and his students to be the very first to act on them. Not only for the novelty of it, but also because come Monday, Japan would face changes nobody could predict. Nedzu had done his homework on the magical society, after all, or as much as he could from his outsider’s perspective. It was very different from the rest of Japan.

“Well, at least they gave their permission to move forward,” Teruya said, a somewhat pained smile on his lips. “To be honest, we counted in some delays, but not one quite as long. Our people waited for many months now, they’ll be relieved that they can finally come clean to their friends and extended family.”

“Remind me, Teruya-san, how close had the relation to be, for you to tell someone legally?”

“Immediate family only.”

No wonder that the man had gotten increasingly anxious the longer he’d had to deal with the Commission. Nedzu felt for him, but his mind already jumped a bit ahead. “Does your nephew know, then?”

 _That_ brought the mischievous smile right back. “Of course he does. My brother has magic, too,” Teruya said and with his next gesture, the background hum faded away. Looking up, Nedzu realized that they had reached the end of the queue. “Please, Principal. It’s on me.”

~~~

Fighting against Shitty Hair had been good for Katsuki’s mood - nothing Kirishima did during the match had been less than his all. It felt good to let loose and know that the other one did just the same, to do everything for the win. Like Round Face before, and others from his class. This was the Sports Festival, their time to shine and show themselves to the pro heroes and the world.

Even fucking Insomnia did his best against IcyHot and lost anyway. So did Glasses, and during each of these matches, Katsuki never once saw the fire he knew IcyHot had.

But his own matches were good. Not that Katsuki even once thought he’d lose, seeing his classmates give it their all made some of the pressure in his head go away. Those wins mattered in a way he couldn’t quite put into words. He used his fists instead, and his sweat and his blood and years of work put into his quirk. He gave them his attention and a fight worth remembering.

And then it was time for the finals and just as Katsuki had known from the very beginning, it was him against Todoroki Shouto, the fucking guy who refused to use half of his quirk because of some shitty daddy problems.

Katsuki’s palms burnt with the need to blow these restraints away and make IcyHot _work_ for it.

“You better fight me properly,” he snarled at the other teen, little explosions crackling from his fists. “Not whatever the fuck you’ve been doing all day!”

IcyHot didn’t answer, face blank and eyes hooded as usual. But Katsuki had spent years being angry; he knew that emotion best, because it came easy to him. It wasn’t hard to keep it burning, to hold it close to his chest. Even with fifteen, the hardest part for him was to let go of it. He knew it, intimately, which was why he could see it in IcyHot’s eyes, the flicker of rage he tried to hide away.

When Midnight finished the countdown, Katsuki was ready for the ice that tried to build up between the opponents. With his left hand, he blasted it away. Another explosion from his right carried him over the left-over chunks and right at IcyHot’s face, who barely managed to pull another wall up and between.

“Fucking coward!” Katsuki screamed as he gave chase. He didn’t try to evade IcyHot’s attacks - he shattered them with explosion after explosion, pushing the other teen back and around the ring. “Are you looking down on me?! I know you got more than this fucking shit!”

 _Finally_ some of the anger bled onto IcyHot’s face, mouth twisting as he tried to swallow his answer. It didn’t work. “This has nothing to do with you,” he said to Katsuki, who dashed forward and delivered a satisfying blow to the stomach in reply. IcyHot caught himself before falling from the ring - just as well. Katsuki didn’t want it to end until he got what he wanted. A proper fight.

“If you think you can just half-ass your way through this, I’ll beat you as long as it takes to drop your pathetic attitude!”

It was easy to give in. He knew that. He knew exactly how easy it was to be angry and frustrated and _act on it_. People like Kirishima were _rare_ , and while Katsuki knew that he ran on the opposite side of the spectrum, it was still far more likely for someone to lash out at some point.

(He remembers another person like Kirishima, with flashes of hot summers and the smells of greenery and knowing that no matter how fast he runs, someone is always behind him, keeping up. Smiling, smiling, until he doesn’t-)

His next hit connected with IcyHot’s chest, just as a flash of burning cold runs along his left leg. Kicking out with his right, Katsuki turned and blasted the ice into melting chunks and the other teen had to get some distance in. The fucker was breathing hard, his right side covered with tiny ice crystals that clung to his skin and his clothing.

“You don’t know anything! I won’t use _his_ quirk!”, the teen shouted. He was _freezing_ himself while keeping his fire in, denied Katsuki the fight for the top they both deserved, crippling himself out of spite or anger or fear - and Katsuki finally snapped.

The explosion rocked the arena, propelling him through the distance in mere moments. His wrists and arms ached with sharp, needle-point pain and he knew his hands were covered in blisters, but he didn’t care. With a wordless scream, he brought his palms forward, shattering through all the ice the idiot threw at him until they were face-to-face and Katsuki was too close for IcyHot to use his quirk safely. Left hook, right hook, explosion to the liver, to his knee, right underneath his chin - Katsuki threw safety out of the window until he slammed his opponent onto the floor, hands bleeding and formed into fists.

**”It’s your damn quirk, you fucking loser! It’s me you’re fighting! I don’t care what problems you have with your shitty father, you’re here to become a hero, not to fuck around! If you can’t even give it your all, why the _hell_ are you here?”**

The dust settled slowly, as did the ringing of his ears from his own explosions. Even his throat hurt as he stood above IcyHot, who stared at him with wide eyes and an expression so lost Katsuki had a hard time looking at it.

And then there was fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 3379


	5. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The secret's out!

**June 30th, 2149**  
U.A. High School, Musutafu

When Endeavour entered the nurse’s office, Katsuki was convinced that him sitting on the second bed was the only thing that kept the man from shouting. That said, the guy didn’t even attempt to hide his ire (and if he did, he was worse than _Katsuki_ at it). His conversation with IcyHot was not only one sided, it wasn’t much more than a hissed tirade.

The other teen’s blank face missed the angry but cowered quality Katsuki had observed earlier that day. Now, Todoroki Shouto simply _stared_ at his father until the man took a fucking breath, and said:

“I don’t care.”

Just like that. And Katsuki laughed.

“You-”

“Oi,” Katsuki said, interrupting Endeavour in whatever he wanted to say. A reminder he wasn’t alone, maybe? Like Katsuki cared. “Are you finished? I have enough of a headache as is.” There, was that civil enough? The old hag would be _so proud._

Looking at Endeavour’s enraged face told Katsuki that no, that hadn’t been civil enough. But Katsuki had long ago given up on that and gave the Number 2 hero a toothy grin, more challenge than anything.

“We are,” the man managed to press out between his clenched teeth and shot IcyHot a burning glare. “We’ll speak later, Shouto.” And then he was finally gone.

“What a fucking asshole,” Katsuki said and fell back into a horizontal position, stretching out his aching back. He could feel IcyHot’s eyes on him - it itched in an irritating way. “What?” he snapped. His hands hurt, his back hurt, everything hurt and he had no patience left.

And now IcyHot was taking his sweet time to answer as he stared. One slow blink later, the teen cocked his head as if confused by what he saw, making Katsuki bristle. “You’re weird,” he finally said in such a matter-of-fact tone that for a moment, Katsuki could do nothing but stare back.

“You want another round of ass-whooping?” he asked and the fucker _snorted_. Quietly and barely there, but he snorted, lips twitching into an almost-smile.

“Maybe later. It was a good fight.”

Which was arguably true. The last part, at least. Katsuki felt himself grin before he could catch himself, but fuck it. “Yeah,” he replied and chuckled. “I won.”

He won, against IcyHot’s ice _and_ his fire. Just as he knew he would. It felt good and it was worth the pain in his hands and wrists.

(It’s even worth the fussing he gets a bit later when Recovery Girl lets in some of their classmates: Shitty Hair, Pinky, Soy Sauce and Dunce Face. For some fucking reason, they want to make sure he’s not too injured. When they hear him shouting, they grin and cheer and congratulate him and then fuss around IcyHot, who looks so baffled that Katsuki laughs at him, because it serves him right.)

~~~

 **June 30th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro

Genkei watched Izuku carefully as the common room slowly cleared out. Dinner time was fast approaching, so most of their classmates went on from the first year’s Sports Festival to get changed and freshen up for that. Even Kenta moved on from his position in front of the TV after the explosion guy received his medal, animatedly talking about the new, future heroes.

Izuku hadn’t so much as moved on the couch, eyes glued to the screen ever since Bakugou Katsuki had made an appearance on it.

“You okay, poster child?” he finally asked, feeling a bit annoyed at the far-away look on Izuku’s face. Nudging his friend, he managed to draw his attention to him. “Hey, you still there?”

“What- ‘course I am!” Izuku replied after his initial startle, mouth twisted in something too close to a pout. When he looked back at the screen, the cameras showed Midnight giving an encouraging speech and Izuku sighed. It caused another prickle of annoyance to run along Genkei’s spine, so he grabbed his friend by his arm and dragged him up.

“Let’s get changed,” he told him before Izuku could complain, grinning at the way the smaller boy scrambled to get to his notebook before Genkei had pulled him too far away. He didn’t slow down, though. “You’re still sticky with soda.”

“Rub it in, will you,” Izuku murmured and Genkei’s grin grew wider, satisfied with the reaction. Better for Izuku to be embarrassed than whatever the hell went on during that final match.

Bakugou Katsuki. Izuku’s former best friend that the boy had never mentioned before. Arrogant, strong, loud. Genkei’s eyes still hurt from the powerful explosions the teen had set off against Todoroki Shouto’s ice, and later even his fire. Going strong when his hands bled freely, shouting out his beliefs the way the prideful and convinced did.

Genkei shuddered, only just managing not to scowl, and shoved a dragging Izuku through the second dorm room's door. “You’ll thank me later,” he finally said and stalked over to his corner of the room. With only eleven boys in their year and only five of them sharing this one, there was plenty of space for each, but somehow they still managed to clutter it up pretty badly. Daiki hadn’t put his futon away for the day and Genkei kicked at a corner of it. “Are you going to tell this Bakugou kid about you, then?”

Something crashed to the floor. Turning around, Genkei was treated to the sight of a completely panicked Izuku, who was staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights: wide-eyed, unmoving and flustered beyond words. Genkei waited for a few moments before adding: “When they drop the news. You gonna tell him?”

“Wh-wh-why would I tell him?” Izuku stuttered loudly, now grasping thin air with choppy motions. It was adorable.

“Because you used to be friends with him.”

“Well, not anymore!”

Genkei cocked his head. “So?”

He shouldn’t be so mean, he really shouldn’t. But the astonished, hopeful look on Izuku’s face made him feel a bit pissed. Not at Izuku, but at that blonde kid that caused it. Loud, abrasive, arrogant - a kid that had stopped being Izuku’s friend a few years ago.

That itself wasn’t unheard of. It was actually pretty common, which was a sad side-effect of having magic in their society. Like Genkei, Izuku had joined Mahoutokoro at age eleven, not seven. Which meant they’d both been outsiders within the quirked community. Using weak spells to cover that distance had never been a real solution, either. And Genkei remembered the first few months of their first year, when he’d first met Izuku and decided to stick with him.

He’d been so damn _timid_ , so unlike the abrasive Festival winner shooting off explosions from his bleeding palms. _”It’s kind of normal,”_ Izuku had said. And then he’d watched, breathless, as Bakugou Katsuki demolished his competition.

Now Genkei was watching his best friend shrugging and fidgeting until Genkei sighed. “Whatever,” Genkei said, his voice adopting an “I don’t care” tone as he turned away. “Go clean yourself up, poster child, I’m hungry.”

He didn’t hear the soft steps until Izuku was right behind him, and then it was too late to step away from the sideways hug. Not that he wanted to, anyway. Something about a boarding school and sharing space with a bunch of other kids had destroyed Genkei’s need for personal space.

“I might,” Izuku said, a bit muffled because he was pressing his face against the soft fabric of Genkei’s shirt. “But I’m not sure?” It sounded like a question. Unsure. Timid.

 _Now_ Genkei was grimacing, putting an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. “Want help?” he asked even if he didn’t want to, but it was _Izuku_. And as much as Genkei liked to rile the other boy up, it was hard not to care. “I can visit you for a change during the summer hols. No more mooching off at my place.”

Watching Izuku’s face brighten up was worth the discomfort of facing _that guy_. Probably. “Really? I mean- yeah! Mom’ll love having you over!”

“That’s because your mom’s a saint,” Genkei said without pause because it was factually true. He’d met Midoriya-san only a few times in person, but he’d tasted the snacks she sent her son during the school year. No bad person could cook that well. “Now _change.”_

Izuku shot off to grab some other clothes and Genkei agonized about the prospect of talking with this ex-friend of the boy. “I’m such an idiot,” he muttered and rubbed his neck. Well, he’d just have to make the best out of it.

Maybe he could rile Bakugou up instead. It was petty, but Genkei wasn’t above that. It would at least prove interesting. And if he proved to be as much of an arrogant ass as he’d seemed on TV, well…

Genkei looked up and towards Izuku, who tried to decide between two almost identical shirts. According to the boy, they represented either the Golden Age costume or the Silver Age costume of his favourite hero. They mainly looked stupid, but his lips still twitched at the sight, a grin forming almost immediately. _Can’t hurt to keep an eye on the situation,_ he thought idly, because it was just so easy to care for the shrimp.

~~~

 **July 3rd, 2149**  
U.A. High School, Musutafu

Tenya felt like falling apart, but he still went to school on Monday. It was better than to stay at home with nothing to do - whatever he tried to touch, his mother would be there to tell him to let it go, to get some rest, to _take a break_ , when he desperately needed some kind of occupation. Anything to keep his mind from fraying at its seams.

Iidas had never been good at staying still. Maybe that was why their quirk had expressed themselves in the form of engines so that they could be just as fast as their personalities demanded. That was what Tensei had always said, more as a joke than anything else.

Thinking about his brother almost choked him with grief and anger. Seeing him in the hospital like this-

 _”He’ll not be able to walk again for a long time, maybe never.”_ There had been a finality in the doctor’s voice that Tenya had hated. Tensei hadn’t even been awake yet, impossibly pale and gaunt-looking, wrapped up in bandages, with needles in his arm to keep him hydrated. They said he’d wake up in a couple of days.

They said it had been the Hero Killer Stain who’d done this.

“Iida-kun?”

He came back from his dark thoughts with a start and noticed that his eyes felt itchy as if he was about to cry. Blinking a few times, Tenya’s gaze settled on Uraraka-chan, who looked at him with worry in her face. “Is something wrong, Iida-kun?” she asked and he nearly recoiled from the question alone.

_”...severe trauma to his spine. He’ll not be able to walk again…”_

“No,” Tenya said after a few moments when he was sure his voice wouldn’t waver. “Everything’s just alright, Uraraka-chan. I was just worried about my performance at the Festival - I wish to intern at a specific agency, and I might not make it.”

Her face cleared immediately and Tenya had to push the growing guilt away. It wouldn’t help anyone if he told his classmates about his brother. He knew, of course, that the news would sooner or later hit the channels - right now, they lived on borrowed time, a curtesy from Tensei’s agency. But they wouldn’t be able to keep the reporters at bay forever.

Why was he lying, then? _I don’t want her pity,_ he thought and looked away.

“But you were really good! Todoroki-kun was an unfortunate match-up for you, but you made it far enough. Don’t worry, I’m sure they have noticed you.”

“Thank you, Uraraka-chan,” he said, just as the bell rang. Kaminari-kun just made it into the classroom before Aizawa-sensei stepped in, tired-looking as usual. For once, Tenya could emphasize with the man. He’d barely slept since visiting Tensei.

“Attention, class.” After one hurried moment, everyone was seated and even Tenya managed to give their teacher most of his attention. Which was why he took notice of the wary look Aizawa-sensei gave them, the slight tension in his shoulders. “Before we start with today’s classes, there’s something else you’ll need to watch.”

Another stretch of silence as Aizawa-sensei opened his mouth and closed it before scowling even worse than usual. “I should forewarn you, but it’s actually confidential until you see the announcement for yourself, so - I guess you’ll have to wait. It starts in five minutes.” With that, he pulled out a small remote. The chalkboard split in half to expose the large screen behind it. Only that this time, they weren’t forced to watch educational videos.

On the screen, the logo of the government took up the whole space. Tenya checked the channel number and then they all watched the timer on the upper right corner count down.

It was eerily silent in the classroom. Tenya looked around - he wasn’t the only one left confused and tense by Aizawa-sensei’s words. Even Bakugou sat upright, a frown on his face.

Roughly five minutes later, the screen flickered, showing multiple governmental figures, one of them the Prime Minister himself.

 _”Good morning,”_ came the clear greeting. Not a single noise disturbed the PM’s words. _”Today’s announcement will be the beginning of a great new time…”_

~~~

All around Japan, on every news screen and in every classroom, in most households and even at workplaces, people gathered and listened. Disbelief spread quickly, followed by a plethora of other emotions - humour, because this must be a joke. Anger for the blatant lies. Paranoia for a society in hiding. Tentative hope for those already in the know. Fear on both sides.

The heroes of Japan watched intently. They didn’t doubt. They knew and they waited, ready to react when necessary, still overwhelmed themself but not showing it. Because this was their job, to keep everyone else safe. Now they had even more charges and even more potential threats to look after.

Twenty students, hoping to become heroes, listened in silence. Their teacher stood next to the screen, his face serious. Here, nobody scoffed or laughed, but watched carefully, cautiously, because they already knew this man that taught them how to become heroes. Still, disbelief ran rampant.

Until the screen split. The left side still showed the Prime Minister in the middle of other important people. The right side, however, showed an entirely different room. It had been a long time since any Japanese citizen had seen their Emperor in his traditional ruling clothes, seated on the Chrysanthemum Throne.

Nobody had ever seen the seventeen people next to him, but the cut of their garments was familiar to some who’d studied Japan’s history well.

 _Onmyoji_ , those people whispered.

“Onmyoji,” one girl said in a classroom of twenty, eyes on the screen, not noticing her teacher’s stare or that of her classmates.

Then the Emperor spoke of two nations that had once been one. Two nations that he wanted to reunite. He spoke of these modern days and old traditions. Of heroes and quirks and magic, never once glancing away from the camera, the seventeen people surrounding his throne still and silent sentinels to his speech.

Half an hour later, disbelief was still there. Not everyone would stop doubting. Some would never believe. But there was a seed out now, a seed of _what-if-it’s-true?_.

Out there, one part of Japan’s population fervently, desperately _hoped._

~~~

The screen flickered black. The silence held only one moment longer before the classroom broke out in chaos. Tenya felt numb, felt like this should be some joke or a trick or _something_ \- but he’d watched Aizawa-sensei just as much as he’d watched the broadcast. Even now, as students bombarded him with rapid-fire questions, shouting over each other in their confusion, the teacher had the same pinched look on his face.

“Calm down!” he finally barked, eyes glowing red and hair floating for a moment. The speed of their obedience was a testament to their conditioning ( _Thou shall not annoy Aizawa Shouta_ ), but it didn’t last for long. People were raising their hands now, anxious and vibrating on their seats. Tenya’s stomach churned.

Magic.

(He thinks of his brother on a hospital bed and a doctor who said they couldn’t help him. Thinks of quirks not strong enough to heal what Stain had severed. Thinks of _magic_ with a touch of hysteria because _it can’t be so easy, right?_ )

“Momo-chan, what is an Onmyoji?” Ashido’s voice cut through Tenya’s thoughts and he, too, turned to look at Yaoyorozu-san. The girl hesitated at first, but then she straightened her shoulders under the stare of twenty other people. Even Aizawa-sensei was looking directly at her.

“They were historic court magicians. Up until the late 19th century, Japan still employed them for spiritual and ritualistic services, but in earlier history they held a lot of importance. Those people surrounding His Majesty, their clothes - they looked like the old drawings.”

“But that doesn’t mean anything,” Tenya said, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. Then he turned his head, eyes set on Aizawa-sensei. “Sensei. You believe it?”

“Yes,” his teacher said with a sigh, looking more tired than usual. “They approached the Hero Commission first, back in September. Almost all pro heroes are aware of the situation.” His eyes narrowed down as he looked over the class. “So you’ll deal with it as well, because it’ll affect you just as much. The average citizen can deny it all they want, but _you_ want to become heroes yourself. Act like it.”

Usually, his words would make Tenya feel even more determined to live up to the standard set before him. But today wasn’t the usual day. Today, his brother was still in a coma and their world had been tossed upside-down.

 _Magic,_ Tenya thought desperately. “Sensei,” he said and when Aizawa looked at him, Tenya knew that his teacher knew. He looked tired, but there was no pity in his eyes.

“There are hand-outs for each of you, with basic information about the magical society.” Aizawa-sensei grimaced at the last words. He also didn’t look away from Tenya as he pointed at the front desk and to the pile of papers. “Take one and go home. The principal has cancelled all classes for today. Iida, stay for a moment.”

Tenya waited as his classmates jumped up. It had been a dismissal, so the chatter resumed, hushed conversations drowned out by nervous or excited shouting. Some took it astonishingly well - Aoyama-kun was behaving like any other day, for example, and Kirishima was punching the air, hopping up and down and already wanting to meet a wizard.

They were the minority, even in their class.

Meeting Aizawa-sensei’s eyes when they were alone was harder than Tenya had thought. Thankfully, his teacher wasn’t one to mince his words.

“Part of the agreement between both governments was the exchange of medicinal knowledge,” Aizawa-sensei said. “Starting with the immediate cooperation of the Hero Health Care System and the Tokyo Ward for Magical Maladies. Your brother’s application should already be on its way - if they can help him, they will.”

 _Magic_ , Tenya thought when his knees nearly gave out, eyes blurry with tears he couldn’t hold back anymore. A strong hand grabbed his arm and held him steady. After a moment’s hesitation, Aizawa put his other hand on the back of Tenya’s neck. It felt awkward, but it was enough to ground him through the whirlwind of emotions. Fear, more fear, anger and _hope_.

If magic could help Tensei to walk again, Tenya would support it until the end.

“Go home, Iida,” Aizawa-sensei said and after a few moments more, Tenya did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 3382


	6. Truth

**July 3rd, 2149**  
U.A. High School, Musutafu

The letter found its way onto the principal’s desk around midday, after most of the student body had left for the day, thoroughly shaken in their beliefs. The teachers of UA were mostly gone, too - already, confused citizens took to the streets, not yet formed into protests or mobs but in need of answers that the public announcement had not provided to them. Better, the Commission had said, to have as many pro heroes out there as possible.

Nedzu thought it very sensible. It also gave him time to quietly peruse the letter in front of him, sipping on his favourite tea. He’d waited a long time for the elusive headmaster of Mahoutokoro to reach out to him, badgering poor Teruya-san whenever he met the man. It had been a novel experience for the principal, at least - he hadn’t even known the full name of the headmaster until he reached the very end of the invitation.

“Kamo no Hideyoshi,” Nedzu said aloud, whiskers quivering with excitement. The address, oddly enough, was located in Okinawa. Hadn’t Teruya-san mentioned that the school wasn’t located so close-by?

A phone call later, the principal left his office feeling very accomplished indeed. The letter was safely tucked away in the inner pocket of his suit, just flat enough to escape surface notice. To see the school so empty on a Monday didn’t sit well with him as he made his way through the corridors leading from the staff facilities towards the infirmary ward, but it couldn’t be helped - his teachers were needed elsewhere and his students likely too confused to follow any classes. Which could be dangerous, even outside of the hero course.

But Nedzu wasn’t fully alone. Chiyo had already lamented about her patient this very morning. She always did and was usually right about it, too. Dear Toshinori could be a right handful if forced to stay in bed.

“How are you feeling, Toshinori-san?” he said in greeting when he entered one of the sickrooms (or rather _the_ sickroom, which was only accessible through Chiyo’s office and outfitted with the kind of equipment needed to keep an eye on Yagi Toshinori’s delicate condition, no matter what the man himself said about how ‘well’ he felt). His old friend half-heartedly glared at him as he sat on the bed.

“Good enough to at least go home,” Toshinori said after a pointed pause and then he sighed. “I don’t know why that woman insists on keeping me here, today of all days. And she doesn’t let me watch the news, either-”

Nedzu chuckled at his words, hopping on the chair on his bedside. “That’s because she knows you too well. At the smallest hint of trouble, you’ll be off and about and we can’t have that. You overexerted yourself, my friend.”

Toshinori scoffed, but he had the decency of looking away before he opened his mouth. “Not true,” he murmured, which was such a blatant lie that Nedzu actually laughed. “Maybe a bit. But today-”

“Today every available and _healthy_ pro hero is out to keep an eye on it,” Nedzu interrupted him patiently, patting the one boney hand he could reach. “You’ll be needed soon enough - the people will want to hear what their Number 1 thinks of all this, so it’s your duty to rest now.”

The grimace was expected, so Nedzu ignored it and waited until Toshinori worked through the argument in his own pace. The man could be stubborn to a fault when it came to his own well-being (or lack thereof), but Nedzu knew him long enough to know how to handle that. Finally, Toshinori shrugged and leaned a bit more comfortably against his many pillows, his expression almost sulking. “Fine,” he said with a huff and got another pat from his principal.

“We’ve also been invited to visit the magical school,” Nedzu continued and grinned toothily at Toshinori’s startled look. “Well, I got the invitation, but it said I could bring a couple of my teachers with me. I was thinking about taking Aizawa along, what do you say?”

“I think it’s a great idea!”

Taking note of the sudden relief on Toshinori’s face, it wasn’t easy to swallow down a cackle. His dear teachers really didn’t hesitate before throwing each other under a bus, huh? “I thought so, too. He’ll be so glad that you know him so well.” The relief vanished from Toshinori’s skeletal face, replaced by dawning horror. “I’ll make sure to tell him. I need to ask him who else to take with us, anyway.”

Oh yes, definitely horror. Why none of his teachers looked forward to meeting their magical kin (except Hizashi, bless him), Nedzu didn’t know. The number of opportunities was endless, even for his genius mind! But none were so vehemently suspicious as Shouta and Toshinori, which was why Nedzu would bring them with him. One should always keep an open mind, after all, and it wouldn’t hurt for these two men to relearn that.

“Principal-” Toshinori began, but Nedzu shushed him, still grinning and whiskers twitching.

“Don’t worry about it, my dear Toshinori-san. But oh, how time flies! I’ll need to call Aizawa! Hopefully, he isn’t too busy at the moment! Rest up until Chiyo is satisfied.” A final pat on Toshinori’s fisted hand and Nedzu was bustling out of the room, feeling quite successful with himself. His two problem teachers were now forced to visit Mahoutokoro with him.

Oh, and he had to call the Commission. If all went to plan, they’d have to tell the agencies quickly about postponing the internships, after all.

~~~

 **July 3rd, 2149**  
Musutafu

Until this morning, Inko had never quite let herself hope. Oh, she’d heard the announcement of their council just fine - the declaration that they’d take out the Statute of Secrecy, after centuries of hiding. To go against the decision of a world and open themselves up to the whole of Japan. The wish to mend what had been broken in distant history, far before quirks had surfaced and taken over the world.

Inko had heard it all, but where her son hoped and dreamed, she could only think of Hisashi, and what this would’ve meant for him.

Her husband had loved her world as much as he had feared it. Loved it, because it was Inko’s heritage, because it was wonder and magic and fairy tales right underneath the surface of normality. Feared it, because he never understood it the way he understood his science, because it could go against everything established as facts. She’d scoffed, back then, because the same could be said about quirks, only that those were laid out in genes.

“We don’t understand all of it,” Hisashi had said, patient and calm and loving as always. “But we might, one day. Your world is-”

_Brilliant and other and everything he couldn’t pick apart._

She’d never regretted showing her world to him, the day he proposed and she was legally able to. Never regretted clinging to him in marriage, because he loved her and she loved him. Never regretted when she bore his child, not knowing which side of the world Izuku would inherit.

Inko had been born into magic and had chosen Hisashi. Izuku had been born into magic and had nearly been torn into halves over the decision. Giving him hope, she’d thought last year, was a cruel thing to do and she’d tried not to think about it. It was hard, with Izuku talking so often about _when they do this, when they do that, Mom, I can become a hero!_

Harder still every day she met with Mitsuki over tea and snacks and harmless gossip, because Inko was a mother and a witch and many other things, but she was also human and a best friend and despite their sons’ breakup years ago, Inko still yearned to include this strong, wonderful woman who’d held her world up after it shattered to pieces in the wake of Hisashi’s death.

And then she watched as the secret was exposed, watched the moment the ICW gave up on Japan, watched the very same thing her son was watching, his dreams soaring. Watched what millions of people did. Only that she didn’t feel the doubt and the anger.

She felt, for the first time since the idea had been nothing more but a whispered rumour, the same hope Izuku held close to his chest, warm and painful and burning in its brightness.

Choking on the feeling, her eyes teared up immediately. For just a moment, everything was just too much in a way that made it hard to breathe. In the next, she was up and running, wand clutched in her hands as she slipped into her shoes, not bothering with a jacket.

Mitsuki’s home was just around the corner. She was there in seconds, tears streaming from her eyes. It was good that she knew the way over by heart, had known it for years.

“Inko! What happened?” Hands grabbed for her and pulled her into the house. Somewhere inside, Inko could hear the TV. They were still watching it. “Come in, have you seen this? Don’t worry, I don’t think-”

Masaru’s voice stopped when Inko rushed to the living room. Mitsuki was sitting on the couch, her body leaning towards the screen of their TV, eyes rapt as the Emperor spoke. Inko had heard the history of the Statute often enough to know it by heart and she hoped Mitsuki wouldn’t mind Inko’s interruption too much.

It was a silly thought. A chuckle bubbled up in her throat, but it came out as a sob and Mitsuki immediately turned around because she was the best kind of friend.

Somehow, Inko ended up sitting next to Mitsuki. Masaru had gone to the kitchen with a promise of tea, the TV muted for the time. A thumb wiped away some tears from her face and Inko blinked and met Mitsuki’s worried gaze, the one she’d hoped she would never have to see again.

“Talk to me, Inko,” Mitsuki said. So Inko did.

“It’s true,” she said, voice too wobbly and lips quivering and more tears pouring out. She was afraid and hopeful and her hands in Mitsuki’s felt warm as ever. She focussed on that, clinging to her friend in a way she hadn’t needed to in _almost a decade_ , and was Hisashi truly gone for so long? “It’s all- it’s true, Mitsuki, and I’m so sorry I never told you!”

Mitsuki opened her mouth and hesitated, red eyes narrowing for a moment before they flickered over to the muted TV and back to Inko’s face. “You mean, what they said? Just now?”

There was disbelief in Mitsuki’s eyes, doubt etched onto her still-youthful face. Masaru was still gone and would probably only come after Inko had spilled it all to Mitsuki first. They were both her friends and she was so glad for it, but she’d known Mitsuki even before Hisashi, had met her shortly after graduating from Mahoutokoro, when she was still living with her parents.

She deserved the truth. Had deserved it for such a long time, and Inko couldn’t believe that she’d let some silly old law make her a liar. “I’m a witch,” she said and it felt like a weight off her shoulder and a knife to the heart, cutting her open, making her vulnerable the way she’d only been once, when she’d told Hisashi. “I’m a witch, I’ve always been one, and I never told you, and I’m _so sorry.”_

Warm hands slipped away from hers and Inko couldn’t help but flinch, her mind already full of rejection. Oh, she should’ve waited, should’ve thought about this more than just the bare moment it took her to make this decision. Fear of hope had made her ignore this for months now, so unlike her son, so unlike her dead husband. She’d hidden herself away, not ready to believe in the promise of openness, only to run this way the moment the Statute was disbanded fully.

Was it so unlikely, for Mitsuki to hate her for this lie? For mistrust and disbelief to foster between them, because Inko couldn’t well hold her tongue?

Inko didn’t notice that she was crying earnestly now, not until she was pulled into a hug she knew intimately well, a hand on her back and the other fisted into her cardigan. “Shhh,” Mitsuki said and Inko hated herself a bit because once more her friend had to be strong for the two of them. “Breathe, come on, I don’t care if you’re fucking Merlin, you don’t need to cry, Inko.”

“I lied to you, I just- I should’ve told you ages ago,” Inko argued, not able to stop now. She tried to stop her breath from hitching, to hold back the tears, but for months, years, it had build up behind her fake normality. She was a witch, she had magic, and Hisashi was still dead and she still lied to most people she knew and held dear. “But I didn’t b-because of some stupid l-law and, and I always h-hid it and even after Hisashi, even after he died because I didn’t took my w-wand with me, even _then_ I didn’t tell you-”

“Inko!” She flinched when Mitsuki took her by her shoulders, a startled wail escaping her. “You’ll listen to me now, okay? Don’t you dare say Hisashi’s death is your fucking fault!”

Inko shook her head and Mitsuki shook her before cupping her cheek with one hand, tilting her chin up until Inko was forced to look at her. It was hard, not to look away, hard to see through the tears still flowing. She had to look pathetic and not for the first time she wondered why Mitsuki took up with her. “But-”

“Shut up,” Mitsuki hissed, but her hand was still warm and gentle and caring, belying the fire in her eyes. “I know you, Midoriya Inko, so the idea that any of this is your fault is laughable! You came here the moment you could, right?” Reluctantly, Inko nodded. Opened her mouth for another argument, only to get interrupted. “And you weren’t the one killing Hisashi, right?”

Inko gasped and Mitsuki pulled her back into her fierce embrace, as if to protect her from the world. It was more than Inko had ever earned, more than she deserved. She sunk into it, guilt churning her stomach.

“I could’ve helped,” she whispered and another hand, bigger but just as warm, started rubbing her back. Masaru was back with the tea, then. Had he heard it all? “But I left my wand at home and there was nothing left to do but watch.”

“And it’s a tragedy, and if I ever see the villain who did it I’ll kill him myself, but it wasn’t your fault. I need you to understand this, Inko.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Masarus’ soothing voice added and slowly, the tears dried out, replaced with bone-deep exhaustion even stronger than Inko’s anxiety. “Come, sit up and drink a cup. It’ll help you wind down.”

“And then you’ll tell us more about you being a witch,” Mitsuki said, not quite letting go of her. “But no more of this nonsense.”

“Okay,” Inko said with a hiccup. She still felt torn. Still felt the old, aching guilt inside of her. But Mitsuki didn’t hate her yet, and that was enough for now. It had to be enough.

~~~

The TV was long turned off and one cup of tea led to four more. Masaru was in the kitchen again to prepare a late lunch and Inko’s tears had dried a couple of hours ago. In her hands, she cradled her wand, fingers stroking over the familiar length of wood. She felt exhausted, but in a good way. Bared open, Mitsuki’s accepting presence felt warm and welcoming and homely.

“Before you came in, I thought it was just a bunch of bullshit,” the woman said with a grin, one arm thrown over Inko’s shoulders, allowing Inko to lean against her friend. “So I’m kind of glad you came running so quickly.”

“I think a lot of people will think that.” Inko smiled wrily and flicked out her wand. Her empty cup floated along a lazy circle she drew with her wand, Mitsuki’s eyes rapt on it. “Both my parents were magical, so for me it was always just there, but I think there’ll be much chaos coming our way.”

“Like the quirk protests, huh?” Mitsuki laughed and Inko relaxed even further against her side. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not too long ago, people remember how those went. And from what I heard, you got the heroes on your side.” A pause; Inko looked up and watched Mitsuki’s thoughtful face, the little wrinkle between her brows.

“Izuku is a wizard, then?”

“Yes,” Inko said, not willing to do any more lying.

“Ah.”

They both sighed, their thoughts likely going in the same direction. Their friendship had withstood the fallout between their sons, mostly because Mitsuki thought it wasn’t something they should intervene with. Masaru had tried to talk with Katsuki, but not with much success, and after Izuku had gone and changed schools, Katsuki hadn’t wanted to talk about it anymore. Inko’s heart had ached for both of them, knowing what had likely been the cause of the break: Katsuki’s temperament and Izuku’s inability to tell his former friend the truth.

“We’re lucky we’ve met as adults,” Inko said wistfully. “It’s hard for children to deal with that kind of secrecy, especially when everyone else has a quirk.”

“Katsuki is stubborn at best, I don’t know if he’d have dealt better with it knowing about magic.” Mitsuki scoffed softly and nudged Inko’s shoulder. “But he’s older now and my husband’s done some good to him before I could ruin him fully. You want me to..?”

Inko took her time thinking about it. It’d be easiest, to let the Bakugous deal with this. Give Katsuki a bit of time and see if anything could be mended between their boys. But it was a selfish desire. This wasn’t her decision to make. She knew that Izuku still missed his old friend, but he was _happy_ in Mahoutokoro, happy with his new ones. She’d met Genkei and Hana, the two closest to him, and was glad for Izuku. If he wanted to approach Katsuki, it would be up to him, and Inko told Mitsuki as much.

Her friend shrugged and then agreed. “Izuku would do him good. I think he’s found a few friends in U.A., but he’s- like me, when I was his age. It wasn’t very easy.” Mitsuki’s eyes softened when she looked towards the kitchen. “It was fucking hard, dealing with stuff. You helped a lot, you know? Masaru, too. I’ll try and see if I can’t talk a bit to Katsuki, or let Masaru do his thing. He’s a lot better at emotions than I am.”

“Believe me, Mitsuki. If he is at all like you, he’ll become a wonderful person,” Inko said earnestly, because for her, it was the truth.

And then she laughed, the first time that day, when Mitsuki blushed and scowled and deflected, and went right back to try and make her friend accept her compliment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 3257


	7. Healing

**July 3rd, 2149**  
Police Department, Musutafu

“Detective Tsukauchi?”

“Tsukauchi-san, is it true?”

“I mean, we got debriefed about this, but I really can’t believe it-”

“Has the detective said anything about it? What’s he doing?”

“Naomasa?”

Naomasa looked up when he heard his first name, blinking slowly as he met his friend’s eyes. Hiroshi raised his eyebrows as he saw the mess that covered all of Naomasa’s desk; opened files and stacks of paperwork, most of them old, most of them unsolved cases. Balanced on one such stack was his laptop, the word document filling up with hastily taken notes as he went through them all. To his right was the information file he and other higher-ranking police officers had been given prior to today’s announcements.

It was a not-so-brief description of the ability range of your average witch and wizard. Naomasa didn’t know how much of that he could believe (his quirk worked through the spoken word, not writings), but it was a start for the hunch he had.

“What are you doing here, Naomasa? Shouldn’t you be out in the pen, reassuring the younger officers?”

“I’d have thought they’d believe the words of our Emperor more readily,” Naomasa said, trying to shake off the flare of confusion he felt. It was easy to forget that not everyone could make out a lie as quickly as he; of course, those who hadn’t been debriefed before would start to panic. “You can tell them it’s the truth - I need to get through these.”

“What are those?” Hiroshi didn’t return to the pen but entered his office fully, the door closing behind him to cut off the hum of nervous people in the background. “Did you raid our lost-cause cabinet?”

Now it was on Naomasa to raise his brows at his friend, tipping on the open file he had been reading before the interruption. “We might have to rename it,” he said as Hiroshi leant forward to read the file. “What with our newest members of society.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hiroshi murmured, brow wrinkled and eyes more serious now. “That won’t be easy to deal with.”

“When is it ever easy? This whole situation is so out of our hands, it’s not even funny. Witches, magic, people who basically have _a lot of quirks since birth_ \- there’s bound to be public unrest even without knowing that they have criminals, too.” No, Naumasa thought. The public would be outraged if they got wind of this. No matter that there likely were only a few cases. No matter that villains were far more common and destructive.

All the attention would fall onto the fact that an unknown people had lived in hiding and used their powers on the unsuspecting public.

Hiroshi grimaced and straightened out, one hand briefly on Naomasa’s shoulder. “I’d say you go through these, and when it’s time to meet up with these Auroras-”

“Aurors.”

“Aurors,” Hiroshi continued smoothly. “Then you bring it up and hope that they’ll throw themselves at the problem. The more they cooperate to solve them, the better the outcome.”

“The less ugly, you mean?” Naomasa winced when his attempt at humour failed. Then he sighed and rubbed his wrists, sore from typing. “It’ll be so bad,” he murmured.

“It’ll be bad either way. Thank goodness the pro heroes are tackling the streets today.”

Naomasa hummed in agreement and Hiroshi went back out into the pen, probably to reassure their younger colleagues. Then he grabbed another file, flipped it open and read the few hints they’d found five years ago, concerning a break-in.

(Hours later, when it’s dark outside, Tsukauchi Naomasa is still in his office when he comes upon a two-year-old file. He opens it and sees a familiar face. When he is done reading, his hands are shaking and anger curls in his stomach. Ogino Jin’s case lands on the top of his priorities.)

~~~

 **July 5th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro

Toshinori had been a hero for decades now, and while he rarely took pride in the things he’d seen and done, very few things could surprise him. That had held true until he’d been called for a meeting at the HPSC headquarters, where he’d been told about the existence of magic.

The weeks after that revelation, surprises became familiar to him. Japan shouldn’t have been full of them, he’d thought as he toured sights he’d never heard of before, one more fantastical than the other: a zoo full of creatures right out of storybooks; a preserve that held real, living and breathing _dragons_ that soaked up the sun; hidden streets and districts that looked like they belonged in history books, with shops selling a thousand and more things that belied everything he’d thought he knew.

A ministry building, right underneath a centuries’ old temple, that managed, despite its grand design and people working there, to exude the same boring and slightly stressed atmosphere every government institution had.

After those tours, Toshinori had thought that the surprises were over again. Had settled, however uneasy, with all this new knowledge and thought he was finally done with it. He’d toyed with the idea of retiring, what with his old wounds and his limited time. It was the very reason why he taught at U.A. - to take a look at the next generation, to guide them and choose one of those bright, fierce students. One of them, young Togata Mirio, the one Mirai had vouched for, was firmly in Toshinori’s mind.

(Just a few months more, Toshinori likes to think. A few months, to make sure that he will make the right decision. One for All needs someone better than him, someone who can do more with that power, someone to change the world not for the better, but for the _best_.)

Standing on a rocky beach and looking up at the rugged cliffs of a volcano after a teleport through _flames_ made Toshinori think that maybe, the surprises would never find an end in his life.

“Please, this way,” their guide, a young woman with chestnut eyes and dark, long hair, said. She’d been the one greeting them down in Okinawa, explaining the ‘floo’ with more patience than Toshinori had seen in most people. But then she’d had to convince _Aizawa_ of the safety of the teleportation. “We’ll take the scenic route.”

“Where’s the school?” Aizawa asked, looking peckish underneath his capture-weapon. The distaste for this visit was clear on his face - he didn’t even try to hide it, like Toshinori did, who took Nedzu’s other side as they walked up the steep incline.

He wished he’d chosen his muscle form for this trip as he looked up the volcano, which was currently spewing out thick clouds of smoke.

“The castle is cresting the volcano,” their guide said, gesturing up above. Toshinori saw nothing. “Please, follow me. We’ll reach it soon.”

She wore robes, Toshinori mused. They were very pretty; pale pink with golden stitches. On her back was the most elaborate needlework, presenting, if he wasn’t wrong, the four guardians surrounding a stylized picture of the mountain and a castle on top. In her dainty slippers and the soft, wide silk-pants, he wondered how she’d manage to get up there.

 _Better than you, in your condition,_ he thought wryly and hoped he’d last. Turning into his muscle form was starting to look like the better option. Maybe she wouldn’t tell on him.

But then the narrow path swung to the left and behind a few boulders and instead of climbing up, the small group entered what looked like a natural cave from the outside. Stepping into it, ornate lamps sprung to life, revealing smooth floors and intricately carved walls. Wooden beams, almost black with age, held up the high ceiling.

There was also no echo of their steps as they followed the woman deeper into the _active volcano_. Neither was there a rise in temperature.

A shudder ran up Toshinori’s spine. Next to him, Aizawa seemed very tense as well. And then there was principal Nedzu, who looked around with badly hidden glee, walking with a spring to his steps.

“How marvellous! I take it that there’ll be a way all the way up in here?”

“Yes, Nedzu-sama. This is the entrance our boarding students use. The younger children floo directly into the castle, but I thought you’d appreciate the view.”

The corridor was very pretty, Toshinori thought, but it wasn’t exactly a _view_. It was also still worrying to be inside a volcano. Who exactly thought it was safe to place a school on top of one? He felt uncomfortable, but he had no excuse to turn around and go back home. Besides, Aizawa wouldn’t let him, anyway.

The underground hero was still angry with him for dragging him into this mess.

After a few minutes, which the principal spent chatting with their guide, they reached a kind of chamber. Like the corridor, it was cut out of the surrounding stone, the walls revealing more patterns depicting naturalistic scenes. There were no other doors to see, no seams in the walls that would hint at a hidden entrance.

It felt a bit like a trap and Toshinori stiffened, looking around warily. Their guide smiled at them, eyes crinkling a bit around the edges. She had dimples, Toshinori noticed, and then he startled when the whole room _moved_.

Aizawa hissed quietly, bracing his stance out in instinct. He didn’t have to bother - thankfully, the upwards movement was smooth and Toshinori couldn’t say how fast it went. Nedzu’s eyes were shining brightly. “An elevator?”

The woman nodded and turned forward, just in time for the movement to slow down. The wall in front of her opened up (But there were no seams!) and Toshinori had to close his eyes for a moment when sunlight momentarily blinded him.

“Oh, my,” Nedzu said. Someone (Aizawa?) took a sharp breath.

When he opened his eyes again, Toshinori froze, mouth open, and stared. Another surprise, he thought dimly. Then his feet started moving on their own, bringing him closer to the exit to drink in the sight before him. And even after dragons and temples and whole streets full of magic, he felt something stirring inside his chest as he laid eyes on what had to be Mahoutokoro.

~~~

 **July 5th, 2149**  
Tokyo Ward for Magical Maladies

Tensei opened his eyes slowly, feeling drowsy and weirdly numb. Above him was an unfamiliar and peculiar ceiling, painted in soothing colours and adorned with little winged animals that… moved?

He blinked and turned his head to the right. A window was set into the wall, but it showed nothing but sunlight and blue sky. Curving his fingers, he could feel soft linens underneath them. A warm, but light blanket covered his body.

To his left he saw a pale blue door, another, empty bed and Tenya, sitting in a comfortable looking stuffed chair right next to his bed, eyes still on his phone as he typed away. His little brother looked tired, but not overly worried or sad. Come to think of it, Tensei didn’t feel any pain at all, unlike the last time he’d woken up in the hospital.

This wasn’t the same hospital room, either.

“Tenya?” he said, his voice raspy after what must’ve been a long sleep. His little brother immediately looked up, fumbling with his phone as it slipped in his grasp when he startled.

“Tensei! You’re awake!”

Tensei smiled as he watched Tenya sit up straight, eyes wide and one hand chopping the air. “Hmh,” he hummed in agreement, not feeling like sitting up right now. But still… “Where are we?” Despite the comfortable bed and the paintings on the ceiling (did they really move? Or was he seeing things?), the room felt clinical in a way only hospital rooms pulled off, and Tensei should know. Heroes often ended up in medical care, even veteran pros, and Tensei’d been a hero for years now.

The lack of machinery or even an IV line made him wonder, though.

“We’re in-” Tenya hesitated, eyes flitting around before he sat back down, putting his phone away. Always so serious, giving him his whole attention. It was adorable and Tensei’s smile grew wide with fondness. “Er, it’s called the Tokyo Ward.”

It wasn’t a name Tensei was familiar with and he blinked again. Underneath his drowsiness, confusion and suspicion welled up, fighting against the heaviness of his limbs. He looked around for a remote or button to raise the bed up. There wasn’t any of that here, though. “I should be in Hosu, not Tokyo,” he murmured with a frown.

“They transferred you to take care of your injuries.” Looking up, Tenya looked nervous. Was something wrong? “I should call a nurse.”

“Wait, Tenya-” Tensei stopped when he saw his little brother touch the wall besides the bed. There was no button there, no switch or anything else. Just a character, half-hidden behind his brother’s big palm. Tenya looked awkward as he touched it, mouth twisting slightly as if embarrassed. That, or anxious. Touch-screen? But there was _nothing there-_

The door opened with a flourish and Tensei flinched. “Ah, Iida-san! You’re awake!” the new person greeted him and Tensei stared, unabashed, at the young woman in cheery, yellow _robes_ above pale, orange scrubs. The robes reached down to her calves and had half-length sleeves, but they were still clearly robes made out of sturdy cotton with what seemed to be the hospital’s logo stitched on her right breast. “A bit early, aren’t you? How are you feeling?”

“F-fine?” he stuttered, looking at Tenya with some alarm. His brother coughed. “Tenya…”

“It’s the Tokyo Ward for Magical Maladies,” Tenya said in a little rush, and finally the pieces came together.

_Magic._

“That’s just right, Iida-san. You’ve been transferred into our care two days ago. Thankfully, your injury wasn’t old enough to become a problem and we were able to heal you up just fine! Do you feel any numbness?”

Tensei had, of course, been briefed on magic, like most other pro heroes. In theory, he’d known that this would mean some contact with this hidden, fantastical world he’d not yet seen in person. And maybe he’d had some doubt over it, despite the fact that most higher-ups had confirmed the content of the briefing.

That said, he still felt it in his rights to be absolutely gobsmacked when the nurse took out a length of wood (where did that come from?) and started to swish it around over his body. “I, er, yes?” he managed to get out, eyes rapt as green symbols started to appear. “What’re you doing? Miss?”

“Checking if everything’s alright.” She had a very nice smile. “The numbness should go away in the next couple of hours, since you woke up a bit early the potion’s effect is not quite gone yet. But everything seems to be in order!” The last bit was directed at Tenya, who visibly relaxed in his seat.

Tensei thought he might just like the nurse a bit better after that.

And then it hit him. She’d said that _they’d healed him up._ Magic. She had a _wand_ , the lights were _spells_ , he was in a _magical hospital and they’d healed him._ Tensei felt light-headed all of a sudden, clutching his bedsheets with desperation as his heart drummed wildly in his chest. “Wait,” he choked out and tried to sit up despite his leaden limbs. “Wait, what do you mean it’s alright?”

A hand settled on his shoulders and Tenya was there, helping him sit up. God, but his little brother was so tall now, so strong. He was also _here_ , in the _magical hospital_ , so did that mean-

“Today’s the fifth,” Tenya said to him, hands gripping tight and slightly shaking. He sounded so relieved and when he smiled, it was all wobbly. “So we know about it. You were one of the first they transferred here, Tensei. They promised they’d fix you and- and they did!”

The nurse was beaming at them, grasping her wand with both hands to her chest. “Physical wounds like yours are quite easy, really! We still have some problems with quirk-specific injuries and illnesses, and some mutant-type heroes will need extra consideration, but we’re really pleased to be finally able to help!” Her next smile was a bit abashed. “After all, you’re _heroes_ ,” she finished and Tensei was struck with the realisation that this woman, witch or not, was still very much a civilian. She was- just like anyone else, huh?

“Thank you,” he said and leant against his little brother. His head was still whirling and he was so confused because when did this all happen, but more than that, the implications… “Thank you _so much!”_

“It’s our pleasure, Ingenium,” the nurse said before she eyed the brothers. “I’ll get a healer to have a look at you now. At the end of the day, you should be able to walk safely again, although a bit of tenderness will remain for a few days longer. Please take it easy.”

Tensei watched her go, his head a mess. But then he looked up again when something wet landed on his shoulder. “Oh, Tenya,” he said and pulled his little brother into a hug. He was crying as he clutched at Tensei’s hospital gown. “Shhh, it’s alright now.”

He was _whole_ again. Which was a big step from thinking he’d die in some alleyway, after Stain had put his knives into his back.

“I know,” Tenya half-sobbed and half-laughed. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 2976


	8. Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I had trouble finishing the chapter for my other story, but since that one runs on a schedule, I had to work through it before I could start with this one.

**July 5th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro

Shouta had never hidden his thoughts on what he called the magic mess: he didn’t like it. Sure, bringing in the government and maybe some select pro heroes could’ve been a solid plan, but the whole ‘telling the general public’? That just begged for problems to arise, problems Shouta didn’t want to deal with.

Naturally, most people didn’t share his pessimistic thoughts. People like Hizashi and Nedzu were too enthralled by the whole ‘magic’ schtick, talking about possibilities and working together and a bright, peaceful future. To Shouta’s surprise, it had been _All Might_ that shared his thoughts (if not to the same degree). All Might and Endeavour.

What that said about Shouta wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on.

And then, two days after magic revealed itself to the general public and with the first protests filling some streets in the bigger cities, Shouta was told that he’d not go out with his husband to calm down the masses. Instead, he had to step through fire and onto an island he’d been sure was deserted, only to enter a tunnel leading _inside an active volcano_ , because that was his life now. And on top of the mountain, when the stone-hewed doors opened up for them…

 _Oh,_ Shouta thought as he stepped forward, eyes squinted against the bright light. But he’d trained his eyes for decades now, to the point where they could endure much more than most other heroes. They were his weapon and his pride, a fine-tuned tool to bring down even the most powerful quirk to his own level.

Somehow, he was glad for it right now, his shoulders relaxing on their own as he took in the view.

Mahoutokoro, he knew, was the one and only magical school in Japan. Very few people decided to be homeschooled entirely - most children learned their craft here, or overseas, protected by the location itself. Nobody ever wanted to settle on this island, which was nothing more than a mountain surrounded by rocky beaches and covered in hardy plants and almost-black, ashy soil.

Here, on top of the volcano, surrounded by a sea of white clouds and smoke that hadn’t been there when they stood on the shore, Shouta couldn’t feel any more isolated from his normal life. The air tasted fresh and sweet on his tongue, the kind of clean you’d never get in a city, with just a hint of salt from the surrounding ocean. The volcano itself was barely visible - tips of its crown jutted out from the clouds like little islands and formed a half-moon shape. Wooden bridges spanned from island to island and all lead to the middle one, the topmost part of the mountain.

There, the palace was built: With wisps of clouds and smoke licking at its foundations, Mahoutokoro’s walls were made of a pure-white stone that almost glistened in the sun. The slanted roofs stood out with their dark colour, as did the reddish wood framing the windows and walkways.

The other peaks that formed the half-moon were topped with smaller buildings from the same materials - temple-like structures and gazebos, surrounded by gardens or just the blank rock of the volcano. The second-largest peak was flattened and covered in grass, surrounded by wooden stands. On each side of the rectangular platform, three golden poles ending in rings gleamed with a polished finish.

“If you would,” their guide said and snapped Shouta out of his stunned oggling. “The Headmaster is waiting. You’ll be given a full tour after the meeting.”

“It’s very-” Yagi hesitated and only then did Shouta notice the man standing right next to him, eyes still rapt on the school. “Impressive.”

“What kind of stone is it made of?” Nedzu asked as they moved to follow the woman over the bridges. Underneath them, thick clouds hid away the island and the ocean and Shouta wondered if they were part of the protections. Could a plane fly into this space, or would it get lost and never find its goal?

Shouta looked away from the blinding white. The bridge didn’t so much as creak.

Their guide had a small smile on her face and a look of understanding in her eyes. “Mahoutokoro is made from white jade,” she said with a small gesture towards the palace. Shouta almost stumbled, then, and did a double-take, already trying to calculate the size of the building and how much jade it must be and the _prize_ of it all. “When the school was built, it was originally made of regular stone. During the building, however, a large quantity of white jade was found and gifted to the builders, who incorporated it into the structure. Others saw this and brought more. It took many gifts and more than two centuries until all of Mahoutokoro was replaced. It makes the school into a symbol of generosity, change and wealth.”

“How marvellous,” Nedzu said, beady eyes still drawn to the palace. “I cannot wait to see more of it.”

~~~

All in all, the meeting with the Headmaster of Mahoutokoro went surprisingly well in Toshinori’s opinion. At least, he thought that it went well in Nedzu’s eyes, who couldn’t possibly stop beaming as they left the Headmaster’s office an hour later, little legs walking fast to keep up with the Headmaster.

Now, for him or, say, Aizawa… Toshinori chanced a look to the side and winced at the face his colleague and fellow hero made. Yes. For them, ‘well’ was certainly a stretch. Oh, Kamo no Hideyoshi (Kamo-sensei, the man had told them to call him) was undoubtedly kind and welcoming. And smart, scarily so. And very, well. Very _enthusiastic_ , like a certain sapient and super-intelligent rodent.

Honestly, were _all_ Principals of extraordinary schools the same? And did they _have_ to get along so well? Toshinori stared at the broad back of Kamo-sensei and the way his spring-green robes stretched across the shoulders and suppressed a shudder. Like a house on fire, Nedzu and Kamo-sensei had immediately bonded over their shared responsibilities.

And then they had started to _exchange ideas_ so rapidly that even Aizawa, who usually didn’t bother to pretty up his words, couldn’t get a word in-between.

“Disaster,” the underground hero murmured next to Toshinori, making the taller man jump. Their eyes met and Toshinori saw something dark and despairing in them. “This will end in tears.”

“Nedzu probably already prepared for this,” Toshinori agreed, keeping his voice low after taking a subtle step closer. The Principal and the Headmaster were a few paces ahead, the Headmaster’s head bowed as he spoke to Nedzu, who had drawn himself up as high as possible, head tilted up as he answered. “I remember him calling up the agencies. It’s too late, it’d been too late even before we came here.”

Toshinori was pretty sure something died in Aizawa’s eyes at that moment. A deep, heavy sigh escaped the man’s lips and his shoulders tensed, posture slouched more than usual. “Why my class? _Why?_ What have I done?”

“Kan’s, too,” Toshinori said in a futile attempt to cheer him up. It honestly didn’t surprise him that it failed. “If it goes horrible, Nedzu might see sense and not… try again?”

“Do you really think that?” Aizawa asked him, eyes wide and intense and more than enough to creep Toshinori out. “Do you? Look at them!” It came out as a hiss. “I worked with Nedzu for years. Once he's got an idea, he won’t let go of it. He’ll _make_ it work, which means he’ll make _me_ make it work. We’ve got a week to prepare for this stint, explain to our students why they have to do their internships during the summer hols, ask the _parents_ for permission and then wrangle forty _teenagers_ into behaving while spending a weekend at a _magical school full of more teenagers!”_

Despite keeping his voice low, Aizawa managed to convey an admirable amount of annoyance through his words that left Toshinori’s mind reeling. It really hit him, then: Nedzu’s idea was madness. He hadn’t taught as long as Aizawa had, barely three months, but that mattered little right now. He’d _taught_ , more or less. He’d faced teenagers with volatile quirks in the midst of puberty.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how they’d mix with teenagers with volatile _magic_ in the midst of puberty.

“Oh,” he said, eyes vacant and mind shirking from the horror lying in his future.

“Yes,” Aizawa said tiredly. Ahead of them, the Principal and the Headmaster laughed.

~~~

Nedzu was glad that his two teachers seemed to at least enjoy the tour they were given. The school was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside and made for a good distraction. He’d known that his idea wouldn’t be very popular with them: Shouta always had a tendency for pessimism and truth be told, the longer Toshinori worked at U.A., the more the man followed suit. It was kind of worrying, but Nedzu hoped they’d eventually come around.

“Classes will let out in a bit,” Kamo-sensei said after checking his watch - one with half-a-dozen hands and no numbers on it as far as Nedzu could see! Really, everywhere he looked, Nedzu was bombarded with new and exciting things he wanted to pick apart to understand. “Maybe it’d be better to end this tour? Except for some parents, you’re the first non-magical guests Mahoutokoro has hosted; I fear you might get mobbed by our students.”

“What a bother.” Nedzu sighed but didn’t disagree - Toshinori and Shouta both weren’t well-known, one disguised by his waning health and the other an underground hero, but Nedzu was a public figure despite not being a pro hero himself. “I hope it won’t be the last time I can visit!”

“Certainly not!” Kamo-sensei said. “Now that we’re out in the open, I’m looking forward to working with other schools. It’s terribly lonely - we don’t have many opportunities for exchanges, after all.” He chuckled and Nedzu perked up. As far as he’d been told, Mahoutokoro was the _only_ magical school after all.

But then it didn’t make much sense that Japan would be the only country in possession of a magical community. It had never been mentioned, of course, how it was with the rest of the world - not officially, at least. Teruya had only ever smiled blandly at him when Nedzu’d asked before switching the topic. Still, people kept quiet about it and as far as Nedzu knew, news of Japan’s newest addition barely made it out of the country.

Which told him exactly how hard at work the higher-ups were to achieve something like that.

“U.A. will be at the forefront of this new era,” he said instead of asking the questions burning on his tongue. He’d figure it out in due time, he was certain. “Plus Ultra is our motto, after all! Of course, you’re always welcome to visit our school as well! It’s only beneficial for both our student bodies to meet with each other and share in their experiences!”

Kamo-sensei barked out a laugh, deep and rich and fitting for the tall man. “I like that! Plus Ultra! And don’t worry about my students, they’ll love it, too! We’ve quite a few who wanted to go to U.A., you know? Meeting hero students will be exciting for them!”

Nedzu stilled at that, blinking twice. That… wasn’t something he’d thought about yet. Wizards and witches wanting to become heroes? But then, they still grow up and live in a world that was molded around the concept of heroism, of quirks and villains and the protection of the innocent. It made sense, then, that young children idolized their favourite ones - most kids wanted to become heroes, and those dedicated enough worked hard to achieve that goal.

What difference did it make to have magic instead of a quirk? _They probably never have the chance,_ Nedzu thought with sadness, thoughts whirling around in his head. _What a waste!_

Maybe that, too, was something to work on in the near future. After all, what was a hero but someone who cared and was strong and dedicated enough to fight for what was right?

~~~

 **July 6th, 2149**  
U.A. High School, Musutafu

“Hah?! What do you mean we don’t get our internships?” Katsuki sat up, irritation already surging into anger as he stared at Aizawa. He could feel the familiar itch on his palms, but after one too many times of getting his quirk ‘erased’, he didn’t fire off his explosions immediately.

Instead, he showed his teeth in a snarl, a scowl etched on his face. He wasn’t the only one upset by the news they got after waiting since _Monday_ for their recommendation lists. Sure, after the announcement almost everyone had stopped thinking about the Festival and their internships for a while, but that was like, three days ago! He’d worked his ass off to get first place for their year, and now it had all been for nothing?

Even Glasses was standing now, one arm in the air. “Aizawa-sensei! I understand that right now there’s a certain upset in Japan, but surely that doesn’t mean that we need to compromise our education! Internships are a fundamental part of that since they give us an up-close experience of hero work!”

“Yeah, sensei! I was super looking forward to this!” Pinky wailed and then half of the class was shouting out their protest.

“Sit down!” Aizawa hit the desk with his open palm, the smack audible even through the cacophony of various voices. “And listen. I wasn’t finished yet.”

“So what’s this about, then?” Katsuki said loudly when the others quietened down to low murmurs. “Did Glasses get it right?”

“No,” Aizawa said and rolled his eyes, annoyance radiating off of the man in a way that set Katsuki’s teeth on edge. “If it was up to me, I’d send you off because right now you’d get some valuable lessons in crowd control and de-escalation methods. As it is, your internships are postponed to the first two weeks of summer break-”

“WHAT!”

“You can’t do this!”

“I have _plans _-”__

__“They are _postponed_ to the summer break because you are to be part of a student exchange!” The snapping tone had them quiet once again. That or the words. Katsuki narrowed his eyes, staring hard at Aizawa. His teacher looked exasperated, more than usual. “You all know since Monday about the magical community. U.A. has reached out to their only school, Mahoutokoro, and was invited to participate in a welcoming exchange. As this is a unique opportunity and to show our cooperation, Principal Nedzu has decided to allow classes 1-A and 1-B to visit Mahoutokoro for an extended weekend. Which will be _next week_ , Friday to Sunday, for everyone who gains parental approval.”_ _

__Katsuki slowly breathed out, the way Dad taught him. Then he looked around and was faced with a room full of stunned extras. Some looked excited, some looked horrified. Most looked confused and were gaping. Of fucking course nobody asked the important questions._ _

__“Why?” he said with a tone that demanded answers._ _

__Naturally, Aizawa just looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Why what?” He really wanted to throttle the man._ _

__“Why should we go? We’re here to become heroes, not make friends.”_ _

__“Are you kidding me, Bakugou? We’re going to see _magic_!” Pinky hissed at him, which nearly drowned out Aizawa’s snort._ _

__“Exactly, Ashido. You’re going to see, up-close and personal, magic,” the man said, drawing himself a little more upright in the way Katsuki recognized as his _serious_ mode. “No matter what you think about the situation, a rather large number of people have joined us now, people who are in possession of powers we don’t know or understand. Us pro heroes have tried to keep up with them since last year, but we’ve barely skimmed the surface _with their help_. You want to become heroes, and these people will be part of your charges. And _some_ of them will probably end up as villains.” He looked around, eyes landing on each of them and lastly on Katsuki, holding his gaze. “I don’t approve how sudden this was planned, but we all have to deal with it. You’re not going to make friends, but to assess what these kids can do and possibly how to deal with that. You’ll go there and make a fantastic impression so that we can continue doing these exchanges and learn from them and get used to them, because when you are heroes, you _have_ to be prepared for _everything_. Understood?”_ _

__“Yes, sensei!” they said, but Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder if it really was such a big deal._ _

__(How great could magic really be? They’re going to be heroes and Katsuki the best of them.)_ _

__“Good,” Aizawa said and there was the slouch again as he yawned. “I’ll make my rounds this Saturday. Tell your parents that I’m coming to visit.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 2896
> 
> I roughly based the looks of the school from [this](https://cdn.wallpapersafari.com/90/68/LcuwQY.jpg) picture I found when googling Mahoutokoro.


	9. Meeting

**July 8th, 2149**  
Musutafu

Bakugou Mitsuki thought herself a somewhat patient woman. Oh, she was quite aware of her shortcomings: her temper could get away with her more quickly than she sometimes wished, but her teenage years were long gone and the marriage with Masaru had helped to soften her many edges. Plus, with a child so like her, it was either learn to deal with it or go off the deep end.

That wasn’t to say it wasn’t _hard as fuck_ to keep her calm sometimes. Unlike Masaru, who was made out the stuff, she ran hot and fiery and fierce, taking life face on. She was a woman of action, so sitting here and listening to her son’s teacher with a smile on her face was testing her limits more than it ought to.

To be fair, it wasn’t every day that she was asked to send her son off to visit a magical school. Only the combined power of her love for Inko and Masaru’s steady hand on her knee held her on the sofa instead of jumping up and straight to her best friend’s house.

“Yes, of course he can go!” she said instead, praying for Aizawa to just go and go _fast_. “He’s a big boy, he can handle it!” And thank goodness Katsuki was out right now. She loved her son dearly, but he was just like her at that age and he would’ve probably said something stupid already, something that’d make her blow up in her nervous excitement.

“I guess. Thank you, Bakugou-san.” Did he always talk so slowly? Didn’t he have to visit other parents? Mitsuki took Masaru’s hand in hers, smile wooden on her face. Her lovely husband had the guts to smile knowingly. God, but she loved him.

“No problem at all! You’re probably busy, so why not cut this short-”

“Do we need to sign something?” Masaru said in that calm tone of his, a twinkle in his eyes.

It took five more minutes until Aizawa was _finally_ out of her house, the signed form in his hands. And another minute or so in which Masaru forced her to wait until they heard the car driving away. Then he let go of her, laughing when she ran for the door and out without changing out of her slippers.

“INKO!”

~~~

 **July 14th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro

“I can’t do this,” Izuku said, almost clinging to Genkei’s arm. The taller teen looked down at him and if he was nervous, too, he certainly didn’t show it.

“You wanted to tell him anyway,” Genkei said, which was _not_ helpful in the least. Then Genkei smirked and pulled him further away from the safety of their dormitories.

“Genkei!” Izuku hissed, eyes wide and heart beating wildly in his chest. His stomach gave a nauseating lurch and oh no, what if he puked right in front of everybody? It was almost midday and the two hero classes from _U.A._ would be here in half an hour and Izuku wasn’t ready!

“For fuck’s sake, poster child, he’ll probably not even see you. Just stand a bit behind me.”

“Well yeah, _now_ he won't, but what about the _duelling demonstration_ in the afternoon? Or during lunch, huh? Or, I don’t know, _in our dormitories?”_ Some higher power clearly had it out for him. What were the chances that out of all schools, U.A. would reach out to Mahoutokoro? And send, from all their classes, the current 1-A to them? Or that it was decided to go the extra length of full integration and let them sleep in both the third- and fourth-year dormitories? The headmaster had spoken of friendly cooperation and asked them to welcome the future heroes with open arms, which had every student eager and excited for this weekend, ready to share their spaces with their prominent guests.

Every student but Izuku, who, under other circumstances, would be just as hyped as everyone else. As it was, his former childhood friend was coming to Mahoutokoro. The one Izuku had left without ever telling him the truth about his magic. The one who was, right after the death of his dad, the biggest regret in his short life.

Kacchan was coming to Mahoutokoro in less than thirty minutes, and his only shield from whatever drama was looming in the future was his _new_ best friend.

(And Izuku has noticed the weird and worrying expression on Genkei’s face every time Kacchan was so much as alluded to. Because Izuku isn’t blind, thank you very much. He has no idea what it means, but he _knows_ Genkei and how petty the other boy can be. Somehow, Izuku has a terrible feeling about it all.)

“You’ll do fine. I’ll be right there, so if anything happens, you can count on me,” Genkei said with said weird expression on his face. Almost as if the boy actually looked forward to meeting Kacchan, something that Izuku really didn’t want to think about.

Not that Izuku didn’t want to meet Kacchan again. Or talk to him. Or try and apologize for the messy way they’d parted ways. Yes, it wasn’t just his fault - three years of living with people just like Izuku, who cared about him and didn’t ignore him, had shown him that their friendship had died a lot earlier than _that_ day -, but he’d handled it poorly.

Maybe Kacchan would apologize, too. Maybe they’d both apologize because it’d been three years and people grow and change. Case in point: Izuku was far from useless and actually in a position to prove it to others.

That said, Izuku also felt like throwing up when they joined the mass of waiting and whispering students outside the palace building. It wasn’t much space and when Genkei stopped walking, Izuku wondered if it was enough to hide in. Maybe he should just go back inside and find a corner to stay for the weekend. It was too sudden and way too early to face a boy Izuku wanted desperately back into his life and at the same time didn’t.

(Because Kacchan had left him first. Because Kacchan had never called him.)

(But Kacchan had been his first and best friend. Izuku still remembers the weight and warmth of Kacchan’s hug and the pull of his hand in his and warm summer evenings spent kicking up the dust as they ran havoc in their neighbourhood. Kacchan had been his hero back then, during the worst time after Dad died. Kacchan is going to become a hero right now, still so bright and awesome and fierce. Like the sun.)

“Izuku,” Genkei said, pulling him out of his thoughts. Izuku swallowed and huddled closer to his friend, anxious and feeling like a coward again. He wondered what that meant, that there’d been only ever one person to make him feel like this. “You alright?”

“No,” Izuku said because he wasn’t about to lie to Genkei. And then he saw the large stone door open, back at one of the farthest little peaks. It was the entrance they’d use, coming back to school after a break: underneath the mountain and up the elevator and over five bridges spanning above the clouds. Forty kids his age spilled out of the elevator, with four adults herding them into a semblance of order.

It took Izuku, now on his toes to get a better view, about five seconds to get a glimpse of ashy-blonde hair in the distance - and then he just froze up, unable to so much as look away from Bakugou Katsuki.

~~~

At first, Tenya hadn’t been too happy to learn that his first internship had been postponed. But then Aizawa-sensei had explained _why_ , and Tenya couldn’t help but feel like he’d been given a priceless gift. They’d have the chance to see magic for themselves, more than he’d seen in the hospital, waiting for Tensei to wake up.

His parents, both pro heroes and with their eldest son whole again, agreed easily to let him go (later he learns that all of his classmates managed to get permission). Tensei had even been a bit jealous, congratulating Tenya for this opportunity (“Not even us heroes were allowed to see the school yet! Apparently the headmaster has total say there and he wanted to wait.”).

Mahoutokoro didn’t disappoint, not one bit.

Walking in front of his class, but still behind both Aizawa-sensei and All Might, Tenya had a good view of the palace as they crossed a number of wooden bridges. The school draw his gaze despite the fact that they were literally walking over an impossible layer of clouds - the fact that they were on top of an active volcano only barely made it into his head, so smitten was he by the bright white walls and the beautifully slanted roofs. But no journey was endless and before Tenya could really look his fill, they came to a stop in front of the palace and what looked to be the entire student population of Mahoutokoro.

Coming from a hyper-modern school and being raised in a similarly modern-style home, both the palace and its student had a distinctively traditional air around them. From the youngest to the oldest students, they all wore uniforms matching in cut, if not in colour. Pale pink, cheery orange, dark plum, sky blue and forest green were the most prominent ones, roughly divided in age as far as Tenya could see. The adults and a select few of the older students wore black uniforms and he counted five students with rich golden robes.

They looked very much as excited as Tenya felt. In fact, the atmosphere matched that of his class exactly.

“Welcome!” a very loud voice called out, one that belonged to a man that rivalled All Might in height. His gait was confident as he walked out of the mass of students, arms held wide open in a welcoming gesture. “Welcome to Mahoutokoro! I am Kamo no Hideyoshi, the headmaster of this school! You can call me Kamo-sensei!” He smiled at them all, dark eyes alight with obvious glee.

And then Tenya had to swallow a gasp when the man turned to Aizawa-sensei and _hugged_ him.

 _”Oh my god!”_ someone hissed behind him. Tenya didn’t have the heart to reprimand them.

“Aizawa-sensei! Good to see you again! What wonderful students you have! Ah-” Finally letting go of their frozen teacher, Kamo-sensei turned towards All Might and grabbed his hands. “What an honour! The number one hero! And- is that Vlad King? And Present Mic! Welcome!”

“What the fuck.” Bakugou’s voice drifted to the front as Kamo-sensei made his rounds, shaking hands. Looking around, Tenya noticed that the magical students had very forced smiles on their faces. Some just snickered and a few grimaced in embarrassment.

 _Just like us,_ he thought, not knowing that he felt the exact same fondness that his own brother experienced when he came to that conclusion.

~~~

“Welcome to Mahoutokoro!” the students shouted, moderately in sync. And then they bowed, the small crowd parting in the middle. It looked like something they’d learned in a hurry, with some of the younger children straggling behind, the older ones pulling them out of the way.

Shouto had no idea what to think about it. Ever since joining U.A., he found himself baffled by other people.

Like Bakugou, during the finals of the Sports Festival. Or Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari and Ashido, who had started to hang out around him, often dragging Bakugou with them. Why they decided Shouto would make good company for lunch, he had no idea; the same with forcing Bakugou, who clearly didn’t want to share his space with Shouto.

His teachers were no better: each and every pro hero he’d met had been so different from his father. Better than him. It wasn’t a real surprise: Shouto hated his father in a way he never hated anyone else before. But it was still enough to make him vaguely uncomfortable since it drove home yet again how much Endeavour had failed his family.

So, baffled he was. And after weeks in class 1-A, it was almost comforting to not know what was happening, or how to react. He simply followed his teachers, who in turn followed the headmaster of the magical school.

“Hey, Todoroki!” Sero, who had for reasons unknown taken the space next to Shouto, nudged him with his elbows. Given the boy’s quirk, it was very effective. “Do you know anything more about magic? Your dad’s Number 2, I bet they gave him all the information!”

They probably did. But as with most exciting things, Endeavour had made no secret that he disliked magic and its existence. Only his fear that Shouto might end up inferior to his classmates had made the man sign the permission slip. That, and maybe Aizawa’s dead eyes. “No,” he said after a moment. Other than his dislike, Endeavour hadn’t shared anything with him.

But speaking of dead eyes… Shouto glanced forward. They’d entered the palace proper, the interior as grand and beautiful and otherworldly as the exterior. Everyone was busy looking around.

Even Shinsou Hitoshi, who was walking next to Uraraka in his typical slouch.

Which looked almost _exactly_ like Aizawa’s posture.

“Aw man,” Sero murmured with clear disappointment in his voice. “Our class rep said the same. What use is a hero as a parent if they never tell you anything cool?”

Shouto felt his lips twitch, but he suppressed the sudden urge to smile. “Sharing classified information?” he asked instead, his attention torn between the other boy and the enigma that was Shinsou. Maybe there was some kind of magic that could prove-

Sero whistled appreciatively, grabbing onto Shouto’s left arm. “Damn,” he said, and Shouto pulled his eyes away from gravity-defying purple hair to find himself inside a _very_ large room. The orderly lines of both classes dissolved and Shouto got jostled further to the front, the scent of food heavy and heavenly in the air.

“Come on, Todoroki!” With his hand still on Shouto’s arm, Sero wasted no time pulling him towards one of the food-laden tables the moment Aizawa and Kan told them to take a seat. Unsurprisingly, Ashido was already there and- ah, yes. Kirishima was pulling Bakugou along. Kaminara was the last, bringing with him Aoyama and Jirou for a full set.

“For fuck’s sake, Shitty Hair, let go!” Bakugou snapped and glared at them all. Shouto didn’t mind - he’d spent his whole life with Endeavour, and Bakugou’s eyes, while usually bright with anger, never had the kind of hate in them that Shouto was used to from his father.

“Man, Bakubro, chill.” Grinning, Kirishima craned his neck towards the entrance. The Mahoutokoro students were entering now, almost shy and definitely whispering about them. Most did stare, but then Shouto did, too. He wondered what the colours of the robes meant - maybe it was an age thing? Some of those kids looked like pre-teens.

(He’ll learn later that the youngest children, those who only attended for day-school, had to stay at home for the duration of U.A.’s visit.)

Bakugo scoffed. “This is so stupid. Are they _gawking?”_

“You’re literally in a magical castle. Can you not look like someone pissed on your leg?” asked Jirou, phone in hand. Then she, too, scowled and tapped her finger against the dark screen. “What the hell, it’s not working?”

“Of course not, _mon amie._ Aizawa-sensei told us not to bring any electronics with us.” Aoyama smiled and pulled out his own device. “You can use mine if you want?”

“Because yours works here when mine doesn’t? Likely,” Jirou said and Shouto was just about to turn back and resume his staring when she suddenly gasped. “What the _fuck_ , Aoyama?!”

Shouto frowned, eyes on Aoyama’s perfectly working phone. Then he stared at the blonde who was preening under the collective attention of their table. “Are you a wizard, Aoyama?” he finally asked. Maybe his quirk was really just a spell?

“Don’t be daft, Todoroki,” Kaminara said, but he was also leaning over the table, pushing some of the dishes out of his way to get a good look. “Aizawa said they need wands to do their stuff.”

 _“Tu as raison._ I’m not a _sorcier_.” Shouto deflated a bit. “My father and my uncle are. They gave me this - they enchant their devices so that they work in places like this.”

“Your _father_ is a _wizard_ and you _didn’t tell us?”_ Ashido’s voice rang loudly - enough to draw attention from neighbouring tables. A noticeably tall boy in plum-coloured robes was not-so-subtly laughing at them. His friend, short and green-haired, ducked away when he noticed Shouto’s gaze.

“Mina, not so loud!”

“What the fuck?!”

“Bakugou!”

“Just keep it down-”

“Keep laughing and I’ll kill you!”

Shouto shuddered and slowly turned his head to the right. Aizawa was staring at them with angry exasperation. With Bakugou only barely held back by Kaminara and Kirishima, Shouto had a hunch why their teacher was fuming.

“Bakugou,” he said and surprisingly, the other teen stopped for a moment. Meeting his eyes, Shouto pointed to Aizawa. Bakugou looked over. So did his other classmates.

They slowly sat back down, mouths snapping shut. In their silence, the snorting laughter of the tall Mahoutokoro student was pretty easy to hear.

“Genkei..!” his short friend hissed just as others joined. Naturally, the muffled snickers of the plum-robed crowd managed to undo Aizawa’s silent threats.

~~~

“Genkei, _stop laughing-”_ Izuku boxed his friend, but his other classmates were already joining in. Hana-chan had both hands pressed against her mouth, shoulders shaking, and she wasn’t the only one.

Genkei didn’t even try to mask his snickering. He was the worst kind of friend, drawing attention to their table when fate had already decided to deal Izuku a shitty hand. Why, oh why was Kacchan sitting only two tables away? Izuku didn’t dare lean forward to sneak another glance - he could hear him clear enough and he sounded _angry_.

 _Same old Kacchan,_ Izuku thought as he hid behind Genkei’s tall frame. _Maybe he’s too angry to notice me? Can I make it through the door?_ Not that there was a realistic chance for that. Lunch was still not over; one student legging it to the door at high-speed would draw attention he desperately wanted to avoid.

“I’ll stop laughing when they stop being hilarious, poster child,” Genkei said. _Worst_ friend ever.

“Hah?! Say that to my face, fucker!”

Izuku groaned when Genkei saw the challenge and took it. “I said I’ll stop laughing when _you_ stop being laughable!”

“You little-”

“I hate you,” Izuku said and took another peek. One of the teachers was pushing Kacchan back on his chair. He didn’t recognize the man, but it had to be a hero. He’d seen the Blood King and Present Mic and, of all people, _All Might_ (Izuku had almost fainted at the entrance, but now it is hard to really wrap his mind around it, what with Genkei being an absolute dick). Whoever he was, he managed to wrangle Kacchan into a semblance of order.

Izuku was staring. He shouldn’t. He should duck away. But the expression of suppressed fury on Kacchan’s face was so _nostalgic_ that he couldn’t help it but stare. Kacchan had grown tall, the last of his baby-fat long melted away. Even underneath the U.A. Uniform he wore, Izuku could make out the width of his shoulders and the bulk of his arms. The hair was as wild as he remembered, and his eyes were… wider..?

It took Izuku approximately four seconds to register why. Thankfully, Kacchan was much more shocked to see him, which gave him ample time to push back his chair and sprint out of the main hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 3373
> 
> The uniform of Mahoutokoro looks like [this](https://i.imgur.com/3Bg0afE.jpg). And [here](https://i.imgur.com/NAvleBA.jpg) is a chart of the different colours and their meanings!
> 
> Edit: first link should work now!


	10. Confrontation

**July 14th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro

Bakugou Katsuki could count the number of times he’d felt helpless on one hand: every time Midoriya Izuku had cried in that silent, choking way; the day he’d told Midoriya Izuku that they’d make his weak-ass quirk somehow work and the other boy looked away; the first time he’d seen someone shove Midoriya Izuku so hard that he fell, and _Katsuki_ looked away; an evening in the spring three years ago, watching Midoriya Izuku running down the streets.

Now that he was staring at the same scene, it all came back and maybe for the first time ever, it really hit home how much of an impact Katsuki’s former childhood friend (and arguably biggest regret) had had over him.

Fuck, he even looked the same. All in all, still a short little runt with slightly longer hair and some baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. It was all the same: same wide eyes, same freckles, same green hair.

(Same weird expression when he sees Katsuki.)

And then Izuku was running again like the dramatic ass he was, not caring one bit about the kind of mental state he left Katsuki in.

 _Breathe, come on,_ he told himself. His hands were shaking and his jaw felt locked, words building up behind closed lips. He wanted to scream and yell and tell him to stop, but he couldn’t even move one muscle, let alone figure out how the hell he was supposed to call for _that_ name.

Or if he even wanted to.

Numbly, he was aware of voices calling for him. Exasperation-turned-worry on Sero’s face, Shitty Hair’s hand like a solid weight on his shoulder - hell, even fucking IcyHot was staring at him. But Katsuki was still facing the door as if that asshole would come back if he only tried hard enough.

 _Breathe!_ He did, finally unlocking his jaw to suck in the air. Feeling returned to his body and everything came crashing down on him: three years of badly-suppressed mixed feelings, half of them he’d never bothered to identify; another three years of lingering guilt and wrongly-expressed anger. More anger, because why fucking not, because the fucker hadn’t _told him_ , because for the last three years Izuku had been living it up in a fucking _magic castle_. Something warm, yet suffocating he couldn’t name (Izuku looked fine. Spooked, but fine, isn’t that something?) and was clogging up his words-

The hand on his shoulder shook him. That was when Katsuki regained a semblance of self-control, because it wasn’t Kirishima’s hand anymore. This one was larger and kind of bony and when he looked up, Aizawa was looming right behind him.

“I’m fine.” Katsuki hoped that his shitty teacher didn’t notice how tense he still was. When the hand didn’t go away, he shook it off, baring his teeth. “I said I’m fucking fine!”

“Then act like it,” Aizawa said. The hint of red in his eyes didn’t even manage to hide the worry. It rankled Katsuki, badly, to have anyone look at him like that - he didn’t need pity or worry or some losers attempting to look after him.

(He never wants them to see him when he does need someone. Because he is strong and able and on his way to the top. Because a hero needs to be invincible, a shining star. Because he only ever allowed three people to see him vulnerable, and of those three, Dad is the one who can handle all the things Katsuki can’t put into words.)

He was glad when Aizawa let go. The others were still staring at him, but a few snapped words fixed that. Shitty Hair and Pinky immediately started talking and after a moment, the rest followed suit.

Even the tall shit was gone. _Did he run after Izuku? Why? Who was he? The fucker laughed at him! He-_

Katsuki forcefully pulled himself out of his thoughts. Every fibre of his being wanted to hunt them down and demand answers, but he stayed put and ate his remaining meal, the taste of ash the only thing he remembered of it. _Later,_ he told himself because he’d not show himself like this. He’d not go after them while his hands were still shaking.

~~~

“Izuku,” Genkei said with that _face_ and for a moment, Izuku wanted to shake some sense into his friend.

Okay, maybe not only for a moment. The laughter in Genkei’s eyes was just too much right now and Izuku scowled at him. “What.”

Some of the smug lines on Genkei’s face softened and he joined Izuku underneath the stairs, one of the many nooks and crannies inside the castle to hide in. It was a tight fit, but Genkei still managed to wind up one arm around Izuku’s tense shoulders. He didn’t want to, but Izuku felt himself relax just a little bit. He didn’t stop scowling, however, because _why, Genkei, why._

Genkei hummed, still amused but at least no longer gloating.“He turned pale like a ghost when he saw you.”

Izuku only stared harder, decidedly _not_ pouting. “I hate you.”

“Nah, you don’t.” And there was another grin, wide and affectionate and Izuku was still pissed at Genkei, but somehow it was enough to reassure him just a bit, seeing his friend so relaxed and mischievous. “He’s the aggressive sort, huh?”

Izuku sighed heavily and leaned against the wall, futilely trying to sort out his thoughts and emotions. “Oh, I don’t know,” he replied with a bit more bite in it than he intended, but hell - Genkei earned it. “Maybe it’s because _someone_ decided to laugh at him.”

“That’s his own fault.” And yes, there it was, the stubborn tilt to Genkei’s chin and the twist in his lips. Izuku groaned, loudly.

“Please, just don’t. This visit is complicated enough without you doing your - whatever you call your thing,” he said, wringing his hands, but Genkei only laughed and ruffled his hair.

“Don’t worry, poster child,” his friend said fondly and then tugged on Izuku’s robes. “If the rabid baby hero attacks you, I’ll kick his ass. Or you do it, I don’t care. Let’s hide somewhere else.”

“You’re not dragging me back?”

Izuku got an eye roll as an answer. “Why? He can stew a bit longer. ‘Sides, your club’s presentation is in, like, an hour, so there’s no reason to hurry.” Izuku winced, his stomach churning. “We can hide in the kitchen?”

“Y-yeah,” he said even if he knew he shouldn’t. Who knew what his teachers think of him running away or what kind of detentions he’d later get; who knew what impression he’d made on the _other_ hero students. On _All Might_. What he _should do_ was go back and apologize and later face Kacchan and all the baggage he carried, but-

Izuku had run away again, like a coward, and he felt sick just thinking about it. It was easier to let Genkei tug him out of his hiding place and towards the kitchen in the basement. As always, the kitchen was too warm and loud and busy, but the smells of food and the high-pitched voices of dozens of House Elves drowned out most unwelcome thoughts.

Most, but not all.

_How the hell am I supposed to duel when Kacchan will be watching?!_

~~~

Katsuki fumed, red eyes glaring at his shitty teacher. But Aizawa ignored him and his gnashing teeth and popping hands, which was worse than being forced to follow him around.

Granted, it was part of the tour - after lunch was done, the hero students had been herded around by their teachers as the weirdo headmaster showed them the castle. But Katsuki had _plans_ , for fucks sake - he had no time to ogle at some random pictures or look at fucking _architecture!_

Izuku... Deku - _he’d_ run away, and Katsuki wanted to go after him and demand some answers.

(He wants to ask so many things. Nothing makes sense right now. Everything is _anger-guilt-longing_ and he needs to clear his head, but he can’t without-)

Kirishima bumped against him, just a brief brush of shoulder against shoulder. When Katsuki looked up, the other student smiled and shrugged, already looking forward again as they were led through yet another corridor. Katsuki wasn’t stupid - he knew he was acting weird, which made things only worse. Of course, Shitty Hair would pick that up.

Could’ve been worse, though. Shitty Hair usually kept quiet about these things even when he ended up helping Katsuki out of his own head. The other idiots not so much.

“Are you still angry at Monoma’s wizard brother?”

Katsuki really should stop jinxing himself.

“What the fuck are you on about now?” he barked, but IcyHot didn’t so much as bat his eyes. Go figure - he was probably used to that kind of stuff, people yelling at him.

Disgust welled up and added itself to the maelstrom of emotions Katsuki felt before he pushed that one aside. He was _not_ Todoroki Enji, for fucks sake. The guy could go hang for all that Katsuki cared. Besides, it wasn’t like IcyHot looked at him the way he looked at his old man.

“Monoma’s wizard brother. The smug one,” IcyHot explained and for a moment, Katsuki didn’t even know who Monoma was. But then he remembered - the blonde from 1-B. The one who could copy other people’s quirks.

As for his supposed brother… “I don’t care about that fucker!” Katsuki growled, explosions popping off his hands. It did nothing to dissuade IcyHot, however, who regarded him with his usual too-serious expression.

“So you think he’s his brother, too,” the idiot said. The amount of bullshit in that one sentence had Katsuki thrown off, and then Kirishima was looking back and laughing his ass off, one hand smacking IcyHot’s shoulder hard enough for the other teen to stumble.

“That’s a good one, Todoroki! Oi, Sero! You gotta hear this!”

Exasperated, Katsuki decided to leave the idiots be and fall back a bit, a decision he congratulated himself for when out of nowhere, Monoma appeared to heap his inferiority complex on the others. Scoffing, Katsuki pushed his hands in his pockets and swallowed the urge to rip him a new one. Instead, he looked to the side, the chatter of the students washing over him.

_”...now a little demonstration of one of our clubs…”_

His eyes slid past the weird headmaster, briefly caught Aizawa’s gaze when the teacher checked on him, lingered on All Might’s awe-inspiring form and drifted further away, his steps slowing down when he looked down another corridor in this fucking ornate maze of a school.

It wasn’t more than a glimpse of dark-green hair and plum-coloured fabric that had him stop fully, forcing some of class 1-B to walk around him. He ignored their questioning looks, eyes rapt on the corner he’d seen the hair disappear.

Then he was the last of the group, their teachers and Glasses at the front and Katsuki decided that they could go fuck themselves and the shitty tour. Without looking back, his feet carried him away from the group and down the deserted corridor, each step a bit quicker than the last until he was running around the corner.

There _he_ was, next to the tall fuck, both dressed in their ridiculous robes, and once again Katsuki felt afloat, not knowing what to do.

But he’d seen Izuku run away twice now without being able to call him (back), and the thought was like a knife cutting through him: unbearable.

“IZUKU!”

It felt stupid, to be out of breath just from a quick dash and one shouted word, but here Katsuki was, his hands not quite shaking but his heart beating up to his throat. He watched the way _he_ flinched; how he turned around, stupid eyes wide with shock.

Fuck, but he looked just the same, just a bit taller, hair a bit longer, dressed in a laughable uniform, but still _just the same_.

Katsuki wondered if he still cried as often, _anger-guilt-longing-elation_ churning away as he walked closer, slowly, not once blinking or looking away.

“K-Kacchan?” The voice wasn’t quite right. The tone, however, was: nervous, insecure, stuttering.

(There had been a time where Izuku had called for him with a voice brimming with happiness and trust. When did that stop?)

“We need to talk,” he said because there were too many things in his head and Izuku was just there, staring at him, and he’d _lied_ to him. Had lied about everything, about his weak quirk, about what he could do, about why he never even _tried_ , and Katsuki didn’t know what to do with that. He remembered how he used to snap at the boy when it all became too much of a mess and the way Izuku would look at him then, and he still wants to scream and demand, but-

 _Breathe,_ he told himself and did just that, cool air filling his lungs. Remembered the days and weeks after Izuku just left. Remembered the realization that he’d fucked up and _ruined_ something. Remembered long evenings with Dad-

He was older now. He could do this. He could get his answers of _why_ , and maybe…

“Should you even be here?”

“Ha?!” Katsuki couldn’t help but react in anger when the extra piped up, even stepping forward a bit as if to cover Izuku. He was tall, but also gangly - Katsuki had noticed how most of the kids here were disgustingly soft. With the robes it was hard to see, but Smug Face here seemed to be just the same. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you! Now shut up and wait your turn, I’m here for him!”

Izuku gulped when Katsuki pointed at him. Smug Face, however, only raised his eyebrows and looked-

He literally looked down on Katsuki, making his anger spike. “Sorry, but our poster boy doesn’t have any time,” he said and _smiled_ and Katsuki wanted to punch him. “Now run along-”

“Fuck you!” Katsuki clenched his hands into fists, because if he attacked him right now, they’d throw him out or some shit and he wouldn’t wait any longer. “Izuku, you gonna let that extra talk for you or what?”

“Ehh? I- No! Kacchan, I mean-” Izuku looked at Smug Face, then back at him, hands wringing in a painfully nostalgic way.

“Are you ever not screaming?” Smug Face asked, his voice so fucking grating it wasn’t even funny. “That’s not good for your blood pressure, you know-”

_”Genkei!”_

They both stopped posturing, eyes back on Izuku who was looking both intensely exasperated and like he was about to piss himself. But he held Smug Face’s gaze, mouth pressed into a hard line. A second later, Smug Face relented visibly, sending Katsuki a stink eye but not saying anything further.

Good for him. Katsuki was about ready to risk getting thrown out. Taking another deep breath, he forced his shoulders to relax, shifting his stance into something less aggressive. “You gonna talk, then?”

It took Izuku another few moments before nodding, and then Katsuki was moving, long strides eating up the distance in mere seconds. He was taller than Izuku - the squirt had still not caught up, probably never would - and broader, too. But up close, he saw that Izuku wasn’t _thin_ \- underneath his ugly robes, Katsuki noticed a body used to workout.

He also noticed the way Izuku shrank back a bit before squaring his shoulders. Not cowering, not retreating. He’d run away earlier, but now he stood still, face turned upwards to meet Katsuki’s eyes with his own, green ones.

Every single vulnerable moment in Katsuki’s life had been linked to this boy and even standing here, after three years of not seeing each other, Katsuki wondered why that was. Why he regretted all the times he’d looked away. Why he was here, right now, his head a mess and the familiar anger feeling like a thin blanket he only huddled behind.

“So… you’re a wizard.”

The answering flinch was badly suppressed and Katsuki could clearly see guilt on Izuku’s face, the way it twisted his features. And then Izuku ducked his head, eyes averted, and Katsuki wanted to punch him, badly.

“I couldn’t tell you, Kacchan,” he said, which was not what Katsuki wanted to hear. But maybe it wasn’t what he wanted to talk about, at all. He’d imagined, after Izuku had gone and left, how he could maybe, possibly, apologize - not immediately, but after months of trying to figure out his own reactions. Because when Izuku had gone, he’d broken apart at his seams, and he didn’t know why. He’d imagined how he’d apologize, and Izuku would, too - how Izuku would tell him he still wanted to become a hero with him, that he’d train and give it his all.

And then he’d shoved all of that away and thrown himself into his own training until the ache of his body overpowered the ache of his mind and he could pretend like he didn’t care, until he simply didn’t think about it anymore.

That wasn’t an option now, however. Now, they were standing only a step away from each other, in a whole different world, with too many things between them.

“Bullshit,” Katsuki said, because even before he’d started to ignore Izuku, back when they’d been little and friends and planned on becoming heroes, that lie had been between them before everything else had piled up to further the gap. He pushed his hands into his pockets, clenched to fists to smother any explosions. “That’s - you _lied_ to me-”

“I couldn’t!” Izuku’s outburst managed to surprise Katsuki, but before he could properly react to that, the other boy continued. “Don’t you think I wouldn’t have if I could? Kacchan, you were my _best friend!_ I wanted to tell you so badly, but that wasn’t an option!”

“And why not? Did you think I would tell anyone? That I couldn’t keep it a secret?” There was a rush inside his head, his ears filled with the noise of his blood. His palms were sweaty, itching to _do_ something, and again and again he remembered how he’d tried to make it work, to get Izuku to train his fucking quirk, to somehow become heroes together, only for the other boy to shake his head and tell him _no._ “You just told me you had a quirk, and from one moment to the next you gave up! Everytime I wanted to train with you, you just ran back home!”

“Do you even know how many laws that would’ve broken? Do you even know what they’d have done to you? There’s a reason why nobody _ever_ found out about us-”

“It was _our_ dream, you fucking idiot!” Katsuki screamed, not caring that Smug Face was still standing there, not caring who else might hear him. He was just so fucking angry. “And you just up and left me!”

“Oh, that’s just rich!” Izuku shouted right back, and when did he gain a backbone? When did he grow up enough to stand on his own, to face Katsuki like that, not retreating, not running? _”You_ stopped coming over! _You_ stopped being my friend! _You_ never called! _You_ called me a deku and never even _cared_!”

And there it was, wasn’t it? The source of his guilt and regret, all those years of his childhood spent ignoring what happened to Izuku, the way his thoughtless insult became a nightmare for the other boy, his passive ‘waiting’ for something to happen, for things to become alright again, never taking action but one measly time when even his own insecure ass could tell when Tsubasa had gone too far. This should be the time Katsuki apologized, but-

But Izuku had lied to him for years and years and given up on their promise of a shared future and it _hurt_.

“I stopped caring the moment you did,” he said through gritted teeth and refused to step back and lose this- whatever this was. “I stopped caring when you couldn’t even look me in the eyes anymore despite every promise we made!”

Those weren’t the right words. Or maybe just the ones he needed. “They’d have taken your memories!” Izuku screamed at his face, eyes bright and wide and full of tears, and Katsuki didn’t know what to say, what to do to stop him crying. “Because that’s how it was, you jerk! I’d have told you, and they’d have come and taken it all away and I didn’t- I couldn’t- They’d have just _taken_ it, Kacchan, I couldn’t do that to you!”

He stood there, crying and miserable, his shoulders shaking with frustration and anger, emotions Katsuki could spot so easily. But there was so much more there, too - grief and regret and longing, and it hit Katsuki, then, that maybe Izuku had felt just like him for all that they were totally different people. His skin itched and his fists shook and the sight in front of him was close to unbearable, because-

Because once, he’d promised himself to become strong so that Izuku wouldn’t have to cry anymore.

“I _never_ gave it up,” Izuku continues, his voice hitching as he tried to contain his tears. It didn’t work. “I always- Kacchan, you were _everything_ to me and I wanted, so _badly_ , to become a hero and- and I still do! But I couldn’t tell you, I just _couldn’t_ , and then you started to ignore me and- and-”

Katsuki felt numb all over when his body moved forward. It wasn’t a hug, not a great, affectionate gesture - he didn’t know if he still had that in him, to pull someone else close. Maybe his arms were never meant to be safe for anyone; maybe the innate anger he always felt so close didn’t allow for that. But he remembered a time when Izuku had cried almost daily, all silent sobs and hiccups and immeasurable sad eyes, and how sometimes, somehow, he’d stop because Katsuki was there. So he came forward and caught one of Izuku’s hands, wet and icky from his tears, shaking just as badly as Katsuki’s were.

He didn’t count on how fucking touchy Izuku still was, stiffening when his childhood friend wailed and clung to him on his own accord.

“Let go,” he said, his hand still wrapped firmly around Izuku’s.

“No,” Izuku managed to say, probably smearing tears and snot on Katsuki’s uniform. And then: “I’m so sorry, Kacchan!”

Which… he couldn’t just let stand as is. _I never gave up,_ Izuku had said. Only that it had looked like that, and so Katsuki, stupid child he was, had given up on Izuku. They’d both been children, stupid and young. At least that, Katsuki could acknowledge.

“... me too,” he said, his voice low because this was only for Izuku. And if he relaxed just a little bit in the other boy’s surprisingly strong grasp, well - nobody had to know that.

“Well, that’s really touching,” a voice that Katsuki quickly learned to hate piped up. “But I need to cut that short. Izuku, the demonstration is about to start. And Katsuki, is it? I think your teacher’s here.”

Fucking asshole sounded like Christmas came early. Katsuki snarled, his arms still full with a now startled and panicky teenager, but now that Smug Face mentioned it, he could easily feel the twin spots of Aizawa’s angry glare on his neck.

“Bakugou,” his teacher said, voice chilly and shit, he was in big trouble now, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 4034


	11. Showtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, being all motivated... 💅💅💅

**July 14th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro

Shouta stared at the three kids in front of him - Bakugou, who was looking at him with anger in his eyes; the short one (called Izuku, apparently), who was crying even harder the moment their eyes met; and last, but not least, the tall boy with the bored expression and eyes that belied him. After a moment, he looked back at Bakugou, who was still hugging it out with the short Mahoutokoro student, giving him the stink eye.

Sometimes, Shouta questioned _why_ exactly he put up with this. “Care to explain?”

“No,” Bakugou said with the same tone and defiance he’d say _Fuck you._ His… friend made a garbled noise at that. The tall kid snorted and turned his head away. Go figure. “It’s none of your damn business.”

 _”Kacchan!”_ The hiss was relatively quiet, but not quiet enough to escape Shouta’s senses. Oh, and wasn’t that cute - his volatile student, having such a nickname? His lips tugged up and he met Katsuki’s pissed-off glare with a knowing smirk that had his student reeling back.

“How about you come back _now,_ Kacchan?” He chuckled at the speed at which Bakugou peeled the other boy off of him and ignored the tiny explosions popping off of the teen’s palm. “We’ll talk about your punishment later.”

“Fucking-” Whatever Bakugou wanted to mutter, it was lost in the sound of a door pushed open and steps hurrying out of a nearby room. The person was too tall to be a student, and just a moment later Shouta saw the black robes of a teacher, a man around his mid-forties whose robes were of a different cut than he’d seen previously.

“Midoriya!” the man snapped and the short boy (Midoriya Izuku, then) winced and turned around, hastily rubbing at his eyes.

“S-sorry, Tanaka-sensei! I was just on my way!”

“We’re almost starting, where- hey, what’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Midoriya said, which was obviously a lie. Shouta didn’t need the last few minutes he’d listened in to know that - the boy’s face was all red and blotchy from his cry, and even now he couldn’t take his eyes too long from Bakugou. “Just- I’ll come right away, sensei. Kacchan, we’ll meet later!”

The man sighed and let Midoriya run along, the tall boy less hurried as he followed. “You’re one of the U.A. teachers, right?” he then asked Shouta, who simply nodded, not sure what to make of the man. “Well, you can come in through the back then, that should be quicker.” His gaze lingered on Shouta and Bakugou a moment longer, probably putting together what happened before gesturing towards the still-open door.

“What’s this even about?” Bakugou asked, which was a poor attempt to distract from his own anxiety, but Shouta let it slip for now - he’d learned quite a bit thanks to his wayward student.

Taking away memories, indeed.

He pushed that thought away, because he was a teacher right now and had responsibilities and couldn’t afford to really become angry right now. “Magical fighting,” he said instead and put one hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, his grip a bit stronger than necessary as he ‘guided’ the boy forward. “Shut it,” he then added when it looked like Bakugou wanted to argue.

“Tsk! Whatever.”

Such a brat.

~~~

“You haven't cried like that since second year, poster boy.”

“Genkei, I _swear_ I’ll hex you,” Izuku said as he splashed some cold water on his face. “Don’t think I won’t do it. I’ll hex you.”

His friend only snorted, but he also handed him a towel before ruffling through his hair. “What? You got a hug out of it. I’d say I helped you out big time.” His grin was unapologetic and all kinds of smug and sometimes, Izuku wondered why he was friends with the prat. “And he apologized. Kinda. I’ll make him do it again, but properly.”

Probably because he could be a fantastic friend if he felt like it. “You’ll give me white hair before I reach sixteen,” Izuku told him solemnly, straightening out his duelling robes. He liked the cut of them a lot more than his official school uniform - more fitting, less billowy, with short sleeves and high cuts on either side that made movement a lot easier. His hand wasn’t even trembling anymore, thank goodness.

“That’s the plan. Now go show him what a hero you are.” Genkei’s eyes had a fierce pride in them - he’d never laughed at Izuku’s dream. It was something that hit Izuku hard, right now after his emotional shout-out with Kacchan.

Speaking of which- he’d be watching, right? “Thank you,” he said, voice tight, and with a laugh, Genkei left the locker room, Izuku not far behind. But when Genkei went left and towards the stands, Izuku joined his fellow duelling club members, everyone looking nervous but none as nervous as Izuku felt.

“I can’t believe we’re going to duel in front of _heroes_ ,” a second-year student said, eyes wide and hands fiddling with his robes.

“All Might is here, we’re going to perform for _All Might,”_ a tall girl from sixth-year whispered frantically to her friend.

And then there was Kenta, who was beaming at him. “Hey, Midoriya, you alright? You cut it real close.”

Swallowing, Izuku tried for a reassuring smile. It didn’t feel quite right on his face. “I’m- yeah, I just had to cool down a bit.”

Kenta snickered and wound an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. “Eh, don’t worry - you’re good, Midoriya! No need to be nervous! It’s just a few _pro heroes_ and those kids from _U.A.!_ ”

“Why do I have such terrible friends?” Izuku moaned, secretly glad for the distraction Kenta provided. He didn’t want to tell any of them yet about Kacchan - it was bad enough that Tanaka-sensei had spotted him in the corridor, bawling his eyes out. And Kacchan’s teacher, too! Another hero, and Izuku had _cried._ “What if I leave a bad impression?” he mumbled, nerves worse than ever after the emotional meeting and now faced with _heroes_.

“Everyone ready? Good, then out with you! Second and third years, you go first - onto your marked duelling rings, and remember, it’s the Russian rule set today!” Tanaka-sensei glanced around when the first students made their way into the club room, which had been enlarged for today’s purpose. “Midoriya, do you feel better?”

Did he? It was a valid question - his head was still a mess, but he wasn’t angry or afraid anymore. Only anxious, and relieved, and confused and happy and unsure and-

He probably should tell his teacher that he was of no mind to duel today. But he _wanted_ to, for Kacchan to see how hard he’d worked all these years. Maybe, Izuku thought, they really could do this. Become friends again, pursue their dreams together again. He just couldn’t help but be hopeful. So, while avoiding Kenta’s questioning eyes, Izuku swallowed and nodded. “I’m alright, sensei.”

Thankfully, that was enough to convince Tanaka-sensei. “Perfect. You’re going up against Saburo, don’t forget that. Make it impressive.”

“Yes, sensei!” That was exactly his plan. How well he’d be able to execute it was a question for later. Izuku was keenly aware of how distracted he was, what with the presence of heroes, his own friends, his teachers and _Kacchan_ , but he’d at least try and do his best.

He had to.

Entering the club room was nerve-wracking enough - both the room and the stands had been expanded and enlarged, the duelling ring raised on a platform that reminded him faintly of the Sports Festival he’d watched just a couple of weeks ago. The club members sat down on benches along one wall, Izuku huddled between Kenta and Abara as they listened to the introduction their headmaster gave them. The students from U.A. had the front seats on the stands, looking on with interest - their teachers looked less enthused, but still clapped politely when a couple of second years nervously climbed onto the ring.

They were only beginners, with just a year of practical defence behind them and a month or so of club training, but they made a good show out of it, flinging harmless hexes and spells at each other until one of the boys racked up enough points to ‘win’. With an arsenal of tickling hexes and tripping jinxes and the like, Izuku wasn’t surprised to notice how the interest of the hero students quickly faded. Kacchan, who was sat next to his severe-looking teacher from before, scowled the whole time.

The next two pairs made a similar show of it, with one of the third years using a weak illusion to spice things up. She did well, but so early in the year, Tanaka-sensei had yet to show her how to really make use of it. Izuku also got the impression that they all played it fairly safe, using more flashy, if less effective, spells. _Make it impressive,_ their teacher had said and they’d taken it quite literally.

Kenta was up next, facing off against another of their classmates. As fourth years, their duel was both shorter and more refined: Kenta using a selection of shield spells to deflect some potential hits, Mitoshi being far more aggressive. Neither of them shouted their spells and it ended in Mitoshi hanging Kenta upside down before disarming him the moment he got through the boy’s defence.

Instead of a polite bit of applause, this time the hero students started to murmur to each other, eyes on the two boys in rapt attention. _They start to get it,_ Izuku thought giddily, fingers tapping frantically against the bench he sat on. He wished he had his notebook here, to check and double-check everything he’d ever noted down about his opponent today. But there was no time to go and get it - already, Tanaka-sensei called him over.

Standing up, Izuku shuddered under all the eyes set on him or the other boy. Saburo grimaced before giving Izuku a thumbs-up, and together they ascended onto the platform, taking their respective spots. “Good luck,” Izuku mouthed at him before pulling his wand out of its holster, feet shifting apart and wand raised.

One deep breath, a bow, and then he was moving.

Saburo Daisuke, average height, stocky build, glasses pre-stuck to his face so Izuku wouldn’t try and hex them off him. Like many other club members, he wasn’t wont to move much inside the duelling ring, but he was quick when he did, stepping aside or jumping over the first few hexes Izuku sent his way. Worse yet, Saburo was _freaking good_ with his point shield, batting away spellfire with just the tip of his wand. It fit his style well since he didn’t have to stop his casting of chain-spells for more disruptive shields, eyes always on Izuku as he murmured spell after spell, his arm never once stopping sketching out the flicks and swirls and swishes.

But that was okay. Because Izuku had his wand firmly in his hand and he knew how to do this. He’d watched Saburo for years, now, had watched him become better and better at his point shield and stringing spells together. For most, it’d be overwhelming; for Izuku, who ran and ducked and jumped, it was a challenge. It was all about closing in, keeping those attentive eyes on _him_ , shielding himself when necessary, getting closer, forcing Saburo to _move_ -

 _”Burēku,”_ Izuku whispered, his wand almost dragging on the ground. The floor between the two disintegrated slightly, dust kicking up from where the stone plates broke down. His next spell had a couple of the larger pieces in the air. Blue, fizzling light nicked his left arm, leaving it numb and useless, but Izuku still managed to fling the stone pieces at Saburo, who _finally_ had to interrupt his chain-spell to deflect them.

Just enough time for Izuku to move his wand in a flourish, pointing at the debris between them. _”Jībanē Paribas,”_ he said, ending with an upward flick and a jab in Saburo’s direction, which the transfigured flock of birds followed viciously. Grinning, Izuku turned his body and started circling Saburo, his next transfiguration aimed at the piece of stone he’d thrown earlier at the teen. _”Jībanē! Kukura!”_

“Shit!” Saburo hissed when he heard the bark of the transformed dog. With a sharp slash, fire bloomed from his wand like a hot blanket, the birds around him burning up into ashes. Then he jumped forward, eyes again on Izuku, who met him head-on as they exchanged a quick bout of spells that was interrupted by the dog. Saburo’s consequent stumble after getting bitten by the animal opened up his defence enough for Izuku to throw a silencing charm at him.

“Yes!” Izuku started to grin, his wand lowered for just a moment - he’d silenced him, he was safe, right? - which was the exact moment Saburo decided to surprise him by _banishing the dog silently_ , eyes gleaming with determination.

What now. “Since when can you do silent spells?” Izuku shouted in what he thought was justified shock, flinging himself out of the way of a nasty-looking orange spell. How many did the teen learn to cast silently? Why did Izuku not know of this? Did Saburo train during the Winter hols? It was enough to startle Izuku, which in turn was enough for Saburo to lift the silencing spell, a wide smile on his face.

“Surprise, Midoriya,” he said and then Izuku had to deflect spell after spell, each one chained in a smooth flow of words and movements that quickly cornered him as he retreated. Sensing the edge of the platform right behind him, Izuku grit his teeth, all of his energy concentrated in shielding.

Not that that’d do him good - he needed just a second more, just one distraction, or he’d lose-

_“IZUKU! I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF IF YOU FUCK THIS UP!”_

The shout cut through the rush of adrenaline and his concentration, bringing to attention all that Izuku had pushed away at the beginning of his match: His talk to Kacchan, the presence of people watching, _All Might sitting in the stands_ \- with a gasp, Izuku jumped forward. Luckily, Saburo was similarly distracted from Kacchan’s shout, which was the sole reason Izuku’s panicked _”Ventos!”_ even hit the mark. With a great gust of wind, Saburo was pushed away, robes billowing as the wind caught in the thick fabric. The other teen didn’t let go of his wand, however.

They cast the disarming spell simultaneously. But Izuku’s hand was shaking now and when he tried to dodge, the green light grazed his arm just enough to send his wand flying into Saburo’s waiting hand.

“Winner is Saburo!” Tanaka-sensei called out and only then did Izuku even hear the racket the other spectators made, clapping and whistling. Some others, he vaguely noticed, only sat there in stunned silence.

He couldn’t help but search out Kacchan - his eyes seemed to move by themselves, and by the time they’d settled on his childhood friend, he couldn’t really look away anymore. He didn’t know what to make of Kacchan’s face, though; maybe he shied away from it, or maybe the mix of emotions was just too complicated for Izuku to figure out. Not that he really had the time - already, Saburo was in front of him, hand outstretched.

“That was a good match,” he said, sweaty and out of breath and beaming. “Really good animated transfiguration!” And somehow, Izuku pulled his lips into something close to a smile, shaking the hand before they were ushered off the duelling ring.

“Thanks,” he said, sneaking in a quick glance back at Kacchan, who now scowled at his teacher who was glaring at the teen. “Your silent casting really was a surprise.”

Looking back, he saw the way Saburo had followed his eyes, staring at the stands. “You know him, right? He meant you?”

Well. It wasn’t exactly a secret anymore, was it? “Yeah. And… sorry about that.”

“Huh.” Saburo shrugged with a thoughtful look on his face, and then they split off, Izuku sitting down next to Kenta as the next contestants bowed.

~~~

Toshinori had, of course, seen magic before. There had been many demonstrations of the breadth and width of magic for the pro heroes; from conjuration to potions to _divination_ , he and a selection of the best and brightest heroes had been shown what magic could do. It had all been very exciting, but also sterile and professional.

They’d not been shown magical fighting, or duels, and at first, when the younger children had shown off their skills, it hadn’t looked all that impressive - kids facing each other and shooting colourful lights at their opponents.

His impression had rapidly changed; the older the student, the more spells and different tactics they used. Already, Toshinori was thinking about how to take them on, which ways would be best to have one of _his_ students fight against them, how the help of a wizard trained in duelling might be incorporated into the different fighting styles of quirk users. How to act, and react, when faced with a villain wielding magic.

Aizawa, too, was watching with rapt attention, and so did Kan and Yamada and most of their students. When the last students left the platform, tall seventh years in green and golden robes respectively, Toshinori was fast to applaud, mind whirling with what he’d seen.

And then the headmaster and the teacher, Tanaka-san, stepped onto the platform, which had _everyone_ from Mahoutokoro whisper excitedly.

It was a startling difference; where before the older students had given a performance worthy of Toshinori’s admiration, the adults took it to a whole different level. Neither of them spoke at all during their fierce fight, and Tanaka-san especially used some kind of teleportation to gain an upper hand in movement as they bombarded each other with spell after spell. It was that very agility that allowed him to secure victory over the headmaster, and Toshinori wondered if he’d been the one that gave that one, green-haired boy the idea to move as much around as he’d done.

“I think I can see what has Nedzu so excited,” he softly said to Aizawa when they got up. His colleague raised one eyebrow, but then he nodded, one hand still on young Bakugou’s shoulder. All Might took one look at the mulish expression on the teen and decided not to engage right now, backing off as they led both classes out of the room and into the corridor.

“Time to take a look at the dormitories, I think,” Kamo-sensei said the moment he joined them, his rustled robes smoothing out with a flick of his wand. “That way, you can settle before dinner and socialize with our students your age, yes?”

“If there’s a private room I can use to talk to one of my students, I’d be very grateful,” Aizawa said and Toshinori winced at young Bakugou’s expression. “All Might here is more than able to get the rest to the dormitories.”

“That’s doable.” Kamo-sensei eyed the two for a moment before nodding, calling over one of the students wearing rich plum robes. “Morikawa, please show All Might to the Black Tortoise dorm rooms. Kinoshita, class 1-B will be housed in the White Tiger dorms. Please follow me, Aizawa-sensei.”

Left alone to oversee nineteen teenagers, Toshinori’s anxiety definitely went up a notch, but he smiled and followed the girl, trying not to show it. “So, the Black Tortoise…”

Thankfully, she was more than happy to explain. “It’s our year’s sigil. For the first five years, we live in dorms that are arranged to the four cardinal points and a fifth in the middle of the castle. So, from year one to year five, you are assigned to one of the dorms. Fourth year is in Black Tortoise, fifth in White Tiger. Sixth and seventh have double or single rooms instead of dorms.” She smiled, a bit shy, and pointed at a small black brooch on her uniform. Looking down, Toshinori noticed that it was shaped like a tortoise, with a snake wrapped around it. “It’s located on the main floor, facing north, if you ever get lost.”

Fourth year, fourth year… like the green-haired boy, who’d left double the impression on him. Once because he was the only one making use of all that space in the duelling ring, running and dodging and jumping around with surprising agility; again because young Bakugou had decided to disrupt his duel with his loud shouting. “Thank you,” he finally said and wondered if he’d see the young duelist there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 3502


	12. Mingling

**July 14th, 2149**  
Mahoutokoro

“Dude! I love this castle!” Eijiro spun around, arms outstretched and mouth opened into a wide grin, as he took in the common room. Aizawa-sensei and Bakugou were still gone, but he didn’t worry too much about whatever trouble his friend got himself into. All Might, too, had fled the moment he could, which, weird, but who was he to judge? “I wish we had dorms, too! This must be so awesome, living together!”

Denki nodded, looking about. “Yeah, this room’s huge! I just don’t know about sharing rooms. At least they got TV and everything.”

“Okay, everyone! All Might-sensei gave us the list of where we sleep. According to him, our luggage should be inside, so gather round!” Iida shouted, one arm up to get the attention of everyone. The sight was so familiar to Eiji that he couldn’t help but laugh, seeing it in such a different environment. And what an environment it was! The castle itself was really traditional in style, even with the jade walls, but the furniture of the common room was modern, same as the appliances he could see. He wondered what the students were like since he hadn’t gotten to really interact with any of the magic people.

Even now, they were alone sans one girl who was watching them with wide eyes and a flushed face. She looked both star-struck and nervous, so Eijiro waved at her, which she replied in kind after a moment’s hesitation.

“Kirishima, Koda, Shoji, Sero, Todoroki! You’ll be sleeping here. Bakugou as well,” Iida said loudly, pointing at the first of two doors on the west-facing wall. “Please go in and make sure that your luggage has safely arrived. We are also allowed to change into casual clothes before dinner, Aizawa-sensei mentioned that we should try and socialize with the students of this dormitory. They’ll arrive in a bit, so please hurry.”

Iida turned around, his eyes already back on the slightly crumpled list. Shrugging, Eijiro followed the others through the door. The room beyond wasn’t too exciting - it was a big room with windows on two sides and shelves lining the walls. There were no beds, but cupboards probably filled with futons and bedding. Their bags, taken off of them when they arrived on the island, were placed on one side of the room. The other side, Eijiro noticed, was decorated with pictures and posters, clothes and personal belongings filling the shelves and shoes haphazardly piled in one corner.

“Someone’s a fan of All Might.” Hanta snickered and went over to check out the veritable shrine of fan merch put up in the corner closest to the door. “Wow, some of that stuff is really rare!”

“Better we don’t touch it, then,” Eiji called out and grabbed his bag. “Let’s just change for now, before our class rep comes looking.”

Most did just that, even when they continued to look around or check out some of the stuff the other students had on their side. Only Todoroki took his time, his eyes on the windows. “The room is off.”

“Off how?” Hanta asked. Shoji, who just finished putting his pants on, hesitated before multiple eyes formed on his arms.

“The windows. There shouldn’t be so many in here.”

“None, actually,” Shoji agreed after a moment. They all stood there for a while, trying to contemplate it, until Hanta shook his head and shrugged.

“Ehh, probably more magic. Can’t really get my head around it, but it’s pretty awesome, huh?” With a big grin, the teen kicked his bag against the wall, his uniform all wrinkled on top of it, and stretched out. “You done, Kirishima? Let’s go see if those wizards are there yet!”

~~~

The room was pretty full by the time Katsuki _finally_ made it to the dorms. The dressing down hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought, but Aizawa had some questions for him about his relationship with Izuku and why he’d shouted during the duel and _ugh_ , he really didn’t want to think about that right now.

But it was over, and Aizawa had brought him to the place they’d sleep for the next couple of days, so that’s that. Still, Katsuki felt pretty pissed off, glowering when he entered through the door.

Inside, mayhem greeted him. His whole class was gathered here and they all had changed into casual clothes. With them were the Mahoutokoro students - fourth years, Aizawa had told him on the way. “Like your friend,” he’d also said before leaving him well alone. They still wore their ugly robes, most of them plum-coloured. Two were clad in orange like some of the younger kids Katsuki had seen before.

“Bakubro!” someone yelled - Kirishima, probably. There weren’t many people calling Katsuki by that moniker. And he was standing next to-

“Shitty Hair,” Katsuki grunted in reply, eyes fixed on Izuku who was staring at him with a nervous expression on his stupid face. “Nerd.”

“H-hello Kacchan,” Izuku said and Katsuki very nearly groaned when he saw the look on his friends’ faces. Sero especially - the guy grinned in a way that promised teasing, so Katsuki lifted one hand and set off a small explosion in warning.

“Anyone else so much as _thinks_ about calling me that,” he said, voice low and growling because really, he had no patience left. “Gets to _die_ , understood?”

“Sure thing, Kacchan!” Dunce Face chirped and then tried to dodge behind Izuku when Katsuki threw himself forward. “Fuck - Jirou! Help!”

“Help yourself!” the girl shouted. Katsuki saw her rolling her eyes, arms crossed, before turning back to the startled gaggle of magic students standing next to her. “Seriously, don’t mind them - now what’s this about silencing…”

“Kaminari! Bakugou! You are very disruptive!” And there was Glasses, annoying as ever. Shitty Hair was too busy laughing and Kaminari wriggled in Katsuki’s grasp and Izuku - Katsuki nearly let Dunce Face go when he saw Izuku’s expression, baffled and wondrous and _amused_.

“Fuck it,” Katsuki said and let go of Kaminari, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Did your teacher give you any shit?”

“Err- no, not really,” Izuku said, eyes still wide. A bit more and they’d fall right off. “How was-”

“Wait, wait, Bakugou’s _worried?”_ Because of course, those damn extras couldn’t shut up. Glaring sadly didn’t help, not with Shitty Hair pushing forward, a big, stupid grin on his face putting his sharp teeth on display. “Wow, dude! So you’re, like, real friends, right? Didn’t think I’d ever see him like that!”

“I mean, I guess-” Izuku looked a bit startled, but not- not displeased. Only nervous, what with the way he kept fiddling the hems of his robes. His duelling robes, he still hadn’t changed. When he looked over, Katsuki leant closer, his eyes warily on Kirishima. “Y-yeah. We’re friends.”

And then Izuku _smiled_. Stupidly, of course, all too bright and pleased and not quite believing it yet.

“We grew up together,” Katsuki said, scowling but still sticking close. “Now shut it, all of you. Where’s my stuff?”

“You’re in our room,” Tape Face piped up, eyes quickly moving between Katsuki and Izuku like they were some sort of interesting specimen. It had Katsuki bristle immediately and the other boy quickly raised his hands in a calming gesture. “Chill, bro - it’s through that door.”

“Oh! That’s our room! I can show you, Kacchan!” Izuku looked up, a bit hesitant - but then he had his hand on Katsuki’s arm. For a moment, Katsuki thought about shaking it off, but hell… he can still kind of see Izuku crying like the big baby he was, and oddly enough it didn’t bother him too much.

They still had to talk. Like, a lot. But Katsuki could play nice, he guessed.

(And it is nice, too, to see Izuku actually smiling instead of crying. It reminds him of better times and that makes Katsuki feel a bit more content, a bit more patient. They will talk and work things out. And after what Katsuki had seen today, he feels like they have _possibilities_ again, after years of none.)

Then they opened the door and Katsuki got all but a moment to check out the room - large, many windows, some futons already rolled out on the floor - before his eyes settled on the weirdest stand-off he’d seen so far.

Smug Face and IcyHot, one frowning and the other blank-faced as always, standing in the middle of the room.

“-don’t know any Monoma’s,” Smug Face just said before his eyes flickered over. His nose visibly twitched when his gaze landed on where Izuku was touching Katsuki. “Back from getting yelled at, huh?”

“What’s that, asshole?”

Next to him, Izuku took a deep breath and sighed.

~~~

**A few minutes earlier…**

Shouto just put down his futon, smoothing down the rich fabrics of the bedding they were given. Like most things inside the castle, they were quite luxurious and reminded him of what he had back in Endeavour’s house. Other than Shoji, he was likely the only one quite used to sleep on the floor like that - from what he’d heard the others talk about when they’d changed out of their uniforms, most of his classmates had western-style beds in their homes and were disturbingly excited about their sleeping arrangements.

But it was soothing, in a way, to have this here. Despite the traditional architecture and decorations, the whole castle was startlingly different from everything Shouto knew. It was the magic in it, he assumed, that had his skin all prickly. Like being watched, almost. Not by the other students living in the castle, but by something else he couldn’t point at. The windows, too, were a bit disorienting, as well as the whole layout - the castle was _too big_ on the inside. The rooms, the ceiling height, the corridors - it was all too much. Sure, the castle was, on the outside, quite big for its style, but not big enough to fit in what he’d seen by now.

It was also big enough to house double, if not triple the number of students he’d seen. He knew that younger children visited the school, too, without living here, but even then… the dorms, as an example, easily fit both the Mahoutokoro students and class 1-A, and he reckoned that the same was true for 1-B.

“Noisy,” someone said and Shouto startled a bit. He’d been quite deep in thought, not noticing that someone had entered the room. Turning around, he saw the boy whose expression matched Monoma’s, although it wasn’t half as bad now that Bakugou wasn’t there for him to sneer at. “Your classmates. They’re noisy.”

Shouto could hear the commotion easily and nodded, pushing to his feet to face the teen properly. “Yours too,” he replied, taking in every detail he could. Tall, gangly, dark hair, dark eyes. Most kids in this school looked… normal. Like, pre-quirk normal. Quirks had changed a lot when it came to human genetics. Smaller physical mutations, like a change in eye and hair colour, was the new norm. Case in point: Sero Hanta was an outlier with his features, and even he sported unique physical changes, what with his quirks. “Is your name Monoma?”

The teen blinked slowly, visibly confused for a moment, before stepping closer. His stance was relaxed, his hands open and visible. No wand in sight. “No. I’m Matsuyama Genkei. And you’re pretty rude.”

“People keep telling me.” It wasn’t wrong, either way. Shouto simply didn’t care that often. That, and the only polite person ever to emerge from Endeavour’s influence was his sister, anyway. “But so are you. I guess disliking Bakugou-kun does run in the family, though.”

Whatever Matsuyama expected, it was obvious that Shouto’s statement wasn’t it. The boy blinked again, faster this time, before frowning. “Excuse me?”

“Monoma doesn’t like Bakugou-kun either,” Shouto continued, eyes locked with the teen. “Is he your brother or your cousin? I guess his hair colour comes from his quirk?”

“Look here,” Matsuyama said, playing up the confused frustration. “I really don’t know any Monoma’s.” And then the door opened again, the noise of their classmates filtering through, and Matsuyama looked away. Immediately, his face changed in a way Shouto knew all too well from a certain class 1-B student. “Back from getting yelled at, huh?”

“What’s that, asshole?”

“Bakugou-kun,” Shouto greeted and then stared at the shorter person next to him. Dark, greenish hair, bright green eyes, freckles - what did Bakugou call him again? Izuku? Either way, the boy seemed quite put-upon, eyes on Bakugou and Matsuyama as he sighed.

“Yo, IcyHot. Making friends already?”

“I don’t make friends,” he replied because it was mostly true. Then he added: “Although some do make friends with me. Like Kirishima.”

“He’s that way, yeah.” Not once did Bakugou not glare at Matsuyama, who’d pulled his lips up in a mocking smile. “I’m gonna change- holy shit, nerd, that’s your corner, isn’t it?”

“Poster boy’s a big fan of heroes,” Matsuyama said, eyes glinting with humour. “He has more at home.”

“Guys,” Bakugou’s… friend? Probably friend said, wringing his hands. “Can we please not-”

“That’s the limited edition Silver Age All Might and David Shield figurine! You even got the car!”

Was that _envy_ in Bakugou’s voice?

“It’s only number 223- Kacchan, please don’t touch it!”

“I’m not going to break it, idiot-”

“I think they’re both fans,” Shouto said after a moment, sidling up to Matsuyama, who’d seemingly perfected his expression of exasperation. It wasn’t quite enough to hide the fondness that crossed his eyes every time they settled on Izuku, however. “Todoroki Shouto,” he then added. He’d almost forgotten.

“Yeah, like we all don’t know your names already. You’re pretty popular here.” Matsuyama eyed him for a moment. “We do watch the Sports Festival.”

“Oh.” Maybe that was the reason people were staring. Shouto didn’t know how to feel about that. “I liked the duels. They want to show us more.”

For some reason, that brightened up Matsuyama’s mood for a fraction and the boy hummed. “Quidditch, definitely.” He grinned when Shouto made a questioning noise. “It’s played on brooms.”

Shouto mulled that over, only half-listening in on Bakugou and his friend. “That sounds unlikely,” he then said. “Anyway, about Monoma…”

~~~

“You’re here already?” Kan looked surprised when he entered the quarters they were given. “Your students all settled in, then?”

“Hmh, I wonder,” Shouta said and winced when Hizashi jumped in right behind Kan. He was just grinning so damn brightly, already taking in a lung of air.

“I LOV-” his voice cut off under Shouta’s red-tinted glare, the boom of his quirk still ringing in their ears. “Sorry,” Hizashi then said, laughing and not sorry at all. “But I love this place! How’re your kids?”

“Probably not dead.” Shouta sighed and pulled up his legs from where he was lying down on a couch. The rooms they were given were a bit like the student’s dorms - one communal room, with a few doors leading into single bedrooms. No kitchen, but then they were told that they only needed to ‘call’ for whatever they needed. As in, literally calling out for it.

The moment he made some space, Hizashi was taking a seat, pulling off the speakers around his throat. “You didn’t stay long, huh?” It wasn’t quite a question, not with the knowing smirk the man sported. “Where’s Yagi?”

“Bath.”

Kan took another couch, leaning back with a tired sigh. “You’re trusting your students to manage alone, Aizawa?”

Shouta shrugged. “I trust some of them to keep the rest in line.” Especially Iida. The boy had a deep respect for magic ever since it healed up his brother and he was naturally inclined to keep things in order. And after Shouta had to reprimand Bakugou, he was glad to get away and a bit of rest before dinner. “If anything happens, they know I won’t hesitate to kick them out.”

Hizashi snorted, not quite able to suppress his laughter. “Not gonna lie, I thought you’d do that with that Bakugou kid. What happened with him, anyway?”

Shouta briefly closed his eyes and contemplated sitting up, but in the end, he simply slouched further against the comfortable cushions of the couch. Stretching out his legs, he swung them across Hizashi’s lap; the man didn’t even blink, one warm hand on Shouta’s knee the moment he settled down. “Apparently, he has a friend here. Judging by what I heard them talk about, he didn’t know that the kid was a wizard, so they had- a fight, I guess. Don’t know what’ll happen, that’s between the two, but something came up during their talk that needs further investigation.”

“And what was that?” Kan asked, raising one hand in greeting when Yagi exited the bathroom and joined them.

“The memory thing,” Shouta replied and somehow managed to keep the lingering anger out of his voice.

That was something he’d have to talk out with Tsukauchi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Words:** 2857


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